


Scapegoat

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8705470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: AU.  When Blair falls foul of unexpected jealousy and betrayal, will newly on-line sentinel Detective Jim Ellison be able to convince him that they belong together?





	

**Author's Note:**

> scapegoat n. 'a person blamed for the wrongdoings of others'. Oxford English Dictionary.
> 
> Blair learns the hard way....
> 
> First posted to ASR3 on 24/02/2012, this story has been tidied up a little for re-posting here.
> 
> Kate x

**Part 1: Circumstantial Evidence:**   


It had been a crappy day so far, and as far as Detective Jim Ellison was concerned, it could only get worse. Rubbing the back of his neck in a vain attempt to loosen muscles tightened in stress and pain, he exited his doctor’s office, no better off than when he went in. 

The day had begun badly enough when he tried to take his normal shower, only to find that the water droplets actually felt like needles jabbing into his over-sensitised skin. Breakfast was a disaster. Even the bland oatmeal he had tried to get down seemed to take on the consistency of gravel, and tasted as if it had a whole tub of salt added. The coffee smelled like tar, and his clothes itched so much he wanted to rip them from his body again, but he gritted his teeth and left for the PD as normal, hoping against hope that things might settle down once he got to work, but not actually expecting it. 

Trouble was, ever since he had been on a prolonged solitary stake-out on a recent case, all his senses seemed to be completely out of whack, and he was beginning to think he was going crazy. Everything cut in and out without warning, so that from virtually nothing, suddenly everything became all too much, and he was almost crippled by too much sound, smell, taste and touch, and once sight kicked in, he was gone. 

The most frightening thing was that every so often, he found himself losing time. He would get so deeply into something – a sound, scent, colour, whatever - that he could freeze for minutes or even hours until something brought him out of it, whether it be a loud noise, pain, or some other stimulus other than the one which had set him off in the first place. 

It was getting downright terrifying, especially as he feared it could happen in the midst of a fire-fight. Not that he cared much whether he died, because by this stage he was pretty darned ready to eat his gun anyway, but he was desperately worried that his ‘freezing up’ could get a colleague or innocent bystander killed. 

And by far the worst symptom of all this craziness was that no one believed him. 

His boss at Cascade’s Major Crimes Unit, Captain Simon Banks, was no help at all. Sure, he could tell that his detective was stressed, and that Jim truly believed that there was something very wrong. However, the barrage of tests he had made his man take had thrown up nothing unusual at all, at least in the physical sense, so that the general verdict was that the symptoms were psychosomatic, and that perhaps all Detective Ellison needed was a break. Either that or the more cynical amongst his acquaintances thought he could be bucking for a medical discharge, but they certainly wouldn’t mention that in Ellison’s hearing – not if they valued their lives anyway. 

By the time Jim had arrived at the PD that morning, his headache throbbed unmercifully behind his eyes, and his sinuses felt clogged. Even so, he slumped down at his desk, and forced himself to tackle some of the paperwork which seemed to have spontaneously reproduced overnight. 

Slogging his way through the first report, he hit print, and dragged himself over to the printer, only to be almost knocked senseless (and wouldn’t _that_ have been a blessing) by an overpowering waft of scent as he passed by Rhonda’s desk. 

Now Rhonda, a slender, blonde and elegant woman, and Simon Banks’ much-prized secretary, would never be so crass as to use more than a dab of a discreet and tasteful perfume, but to Jim’s sensitive nose that morning, she may as well have bathed in it. 

Staggering backwards and sneezing explosively, he had crashed into a colleague’s desk, and ended up on his ass, while Simon erupted from his office to see what the hell was happening in his bullpen. Pulling Jim to his feet, he virtually dragged the wheezing detective into his office, waiting more or less patiently for the long minutes it took for Jim to get himself back under some sort of control. However, when Jim attempted to explain the problem, all he got was a sceptical gaze and a gruff order to get himself off to his doctor PDQ, and come back when he had some answers. 

Needless to say, Doctor Bryant had no more idea this time of what was wrong than he had previously, and it was a frustrated Ellison who stomped out of his practice, intending to walk for a while to try and both clear his head, and cool his volatile temper. 

A few blocks later found Jim entering a moderately prosperous section of the business district, head down and grimly striding out in a determined effort to pull himself together, his jaw working furiously as he ground his teeth together in temper. 

Just then, a scream, and cry of, “Stop thief!” from behind him shook him out of his introspection as he spotted a figure in a ragged hooded sweatshirt come hurtling around a corner, clutching a woman’s purse in his hand and sprinting off down the street. 

Without thought, Jim took off in hot pursuit, and was closing in on the fugitive when a burglar alarm went off in an office as he was passing, and the piercing screech ripped through him as his wide open hearing protested dramatically at the assault, and he collapsed to his knees, all thoughts of pursuit forgotten as he clutched his head in agony before zoning in self-defence.  


\-------------------------------  


For Blair Sandburg, the day had started somewhat better, as he determinedly set his mind to think positively and to do his best to make the most of the stroke of luck that had finally come his way and landed him with a job against all odds. As the newly appointed janitor to the small legal firm of Gillespie and Associates, it was hardly the glittering academic career he had anticipated, but the three partners treated him with way more respect than he expected or deserved, so he was determined to do a good job, however dull and routine the work. 

Rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue overalls, he collected his cart of cleaning materials from the closet in the hallway of the small suite of offices housing the firm, intending to begin with the public washroom when his attention was caught by a fleeting glimpse of a figure racing down the street outside, closely followed by another, obviously in hot pursuit. 

Knowing it was none of his business, and wanting only to keep out of trouble, Blair was about to turn away when the alarm went off in the next door office, and the second man fell to the ground, clutching at his ears in apparent distress. As Blair watched in horror, the big man curled in on himself, rocking and moaning for a few seconds, before freezing up, lying still and unprotected on the pavement. 

Cursing himself for his stupidity and the Fates for their fickleness, Blair ran outside before he could reconsider, and gently wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders, horribly sure that he knew what was wrong with the guy, and hating the fact that he did. 

Whispering quietly, he murmured, “Come on, Big Guy, I know hearing’s painful for you, so just concentrate on my touch OK? Just feel my hand...” and he carefully stroked the exposed skin of the man’s neck and jaw, waiting for some sign that the other was coming round. 

Suddenly he yelped in alarm as the large figure suddenly lurched to his feet, and in a swift movement that had Blair gasping in horror and panic-stricken memories of all-too-recent similar actions, had the young man on his belly and was slapping cuffs on him even as he protested wildly in fear and rage. 

“Hey man! Get off me! What’re you doing? Let me go! Let me GO! Please, man, please!” 

As far as Jim was concerned, he had been lost in the void, when he became aware of a wonderfully enticing scent which beckoned so temptingly that he felt compelled to follow it. Slowly coming back to himself, he realised the scent was accompanied by soft touches and a warm, deep voice like rich chocolate which soothed and comforted his very soul.... 

However, suddenly snapping back to the present, his automatic reaction to being temporarily helpless was to retaliate instinctively to disable whoever it was who was pawing at him, so with the ease of long practice, he had flipped the slight figure over and cuffed him, even as he registered that the enticing scent was now soured with the tang of distress and fear, if he had but recognised it for what it was. 

Suddenly he was belaboured by what felt like – and, indeed, was – a rolled up newspaper and he looked up to meet the furious gaze of a tall, slender and very attractive brunette, who screeched at him in some strange accent, “Get off him, you bloody Neanderthal! Just let him go! What the bloody hell do you think you’re DOING!” and she continued to beat him with the newspaper as he rose to his feet, staring at her in his most intimidating manner. 

Unfortunately it had no effect whatsoever on the woman, so he growled, “Look, lady, unless you want to join this punk, stop with the yelling and hitting, OK?” 

“I’ll stop yelling when you get the cuffs off our janitor, you pig!” she retorted. “He comes out to help you, and what do you do, you bloody ingrate? Slap the cuffs on him! Now, let him up before I report you to whatever bloody precinct you come from!” 

Looking from her to the struggling figure at his feet, utterly perplexed, Jim reached down and hauled the young man to his feet, gripping him firmly by his upper arm as he stared down into huge blue eyes that were presently impossibly wide and filled with a mixture of anger and very real fear. No way was the detective about to give any consideration at all to the warm and tingling glow he was receiving from touching the kid either. 

“Let me go, man. I didn’t do anything, I swear. Just please take the cuffs off,” he pleaded, holding on to his fragile composure by the merest thread. 

Realising he had made a huge error of judgement, but not about to admit it aloud, Jim turned the youngster around again and unlocked the cuffs with a show of reluctance, only for the woman to immediately throw a protective arm around the smaller man, and, with a glare over her shoulder, she began to lead him back into the office. 

With all thoughts of pursuing the purse-snatcher long forgotten, Jim found himself following in their wake, intrigued by the young man, and needing to find out more, especially as he realised with a shock that his senses were all acting just fine, thank you very much! Better, in fact, than since they first went haywire after the stakeout. Muttering under his breath about major weirdness, he entered the building and stood awkwardly, watching as the young woman seated her charge on a comfortable chair in what appeared to be her own office, fussing over him like a mother hen while she brought him a glass of water. 

As he gratefully drained the water, Blair realised he was trembling in shock, and very near to tears as his emotions ran riot and bitter memories tried to surface and overtake him. Blocking out the exchange going on over his down-bent head, despite his best efforts, he found himself lost in the recent past, and remembering the awful events that brought about his downfall....  


**Peru, 18 months previously:**  


Blair plodded stoically in the tracks of his party’s native guide, grunting with effort as he hoisted his heavy backpack higher, legs and shoulders aching with exertion. 

Despite having pulled his long curls back into a tight ponytail, and the bandana wrapped around his brow, sweat still trickled down his face in the jungle’s humid heat, attracting all manner of insects intent on feasting on every inch of unprotected skin. Swatting at a particularly persistent fly, Blair grinned. He simply couldn’t have been happier. 

At barely twenty years of age, Blair was a grad student at Cascade’s Rainier University, having already completed his Masters in Anthropology on the subject of Tribal Sentinels, and hoping to begin his doctoral programme in the Fall, this time seeking modern Sentinels – if they still existed in so-called ‘civilised’ societies. 

He had been thrilled to be chosen, along with another student, Tim Davidson, to accompany his Anthropology professor, Dr Hal Buckner, on this expedition to Peru to try and make contact with one of the indigenous tribes who reportedly had a Sentinel / Guide pair, according to local legend. 

Although these days it was considered poor form to actually try to make contact with the few unknown tribes still occasionally spotted in the rainforest, as tribes could be unwittingly devastated by being exposed to outsiders’ germs, the Chopec had actually already been through the process some while previously, although they deliberately chose to avoid further contact, and clung tenaciously to their tribal customs and traditions in the face of outside influence. 

On arriving in the general area, the rest of the party, made up of natives from other local tribes, all tried to convince the three academics that it was highly unlikely that the Chopec would deign to make contact, and, in fact, might even get violently territorial. Buckner was naturally disappointed, but still hopeful nonetheless, determined to keep looking for a while longer. 

After several days of fruitless searching, their guide suddenly returned, accompanied by two impressive individuals, who turned out to be none other than the Chopec Sentinel and his Shaman Guide. 

Naturally, the three Americans were thrilled, especially Blair, whose excitement knew no bounds when their guide, translating for the pair, explained that they had been watching the group, and decided that they needed to meet the ‘white Shaman Guide’ - none other than Blair himself. Using his few words of Quechua, and with their guide’s help in translating, he was told that he would meet up with his Sentinel in due course, but that there would be much danger, and he needed to be alert for treachery from unexpected quarters. 

Blair thanked them for their words, and also for making contact with him and his friends, although he didn’t take their warning too seriously, something that, with the benefit of hindsight, he really should have done. 

Fixing Blair with a wise but stern gaze, the Shaman reached into the bag he carried over his shoulder, and pulled out a small but beautifully decorated vase, which he presented to Blair, who was almost overcome by gratitude as he held the gift reverently in his hands. Nodding again, Sentinel and Shaman shared a knowing look, then turned and melted back into the undergrowth without another word. 

Despite scouring the area for several more days, the party saw no further sign of the Chopec, so, with their native porters and guide pushing to leave, Buckner reluctantly agreed to go. 

However, as they trudged back out of the forest, at least one member of the party was more than happy with the outcome.  


\------------------------  


Unfortunately for Blair, he was about to fall victim to some serious academic jealousy. 

Although popular with most students and staff, the young man was a genuine wunderkind, and despite his tender age, had far outstripped not only Tim, but Buckner also, and the older man wanted revenge. 

Whilst making the arrangements for their return to Cascade, Buckner managed to acquire a very valuable figurine on the black market, which he had every intention of smuggling back into the US. Knowing how trusting Blair was, he had no difficulty in surreptitiously hiding the figurine inside Blair’s pottery vase, deciding that, if it remained undiscovered, he could retrieve it upon their return, and get to keep a valuable artefact for himself. 

If, on the other hand, it happened to be found by Customs, then Blair would get the blame, and be out of Buckner’s hair once and for all. Either way, Hal would win, because he could always offer to purchase the figurine eventually on behalf of Rainier University, and without Blair around to hog the literary limelight, he was sure he could get a pretty good paper out of the expedition. 

So it was that, on their arrival back in the US, Blair was pulled into Customs on an ‘anonymous tip’. Completely open and unaware, he smiled cheerfully at the grim-faced officer who wanted to search his backpack. When the man pulled out the vase, looking inquiringly at Blair, the young man said chirpily, “Hey, isn’t it great? A Chopec tribesman gave me that! Hey, no, there’s nothing in it,” he continued worriedly as the other man upended the vessel, and out fell the wrapped figurine. 

Blair was horrified at the discovery, and denied all knowledge, totally at a loss as to how it could have gotten into his pack. However, despite his protestations, he was strip – and cavity – searched, much to his embarrassment and distress, and taken into custody. 

Naturally, Dr Buckner and Tim both pretended shock at the disclosure, but Buckner, at least, was smugly satisfied that Blair would undoubtedly be prosecuted, and could even land up doing jail-time. 

As it happened, he was correct. 

With no one to stand up for him, since he was unable to contact his wandering hippy Mom, Blair was taken to court, where the judge took exception to his appearance, more or less directing the jury to convict him. Unable to pay the large fine with which he was charged, Blair found himself sent down, to serve the alternative punishment of eighteen months imprisonment, which turned out to be pure Hell for the young man.  


\-------------------------  


**Present:**  


Shaking himself out of his bleak reverie before he could drown in his memories of his dreadful jail term, Blair leapt to his feet, and stalked to the window. He stared out and down at the street as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, hugging his torso in overt distress, well aware that Megan and the police officer had been discussing him. 

Frowning, Jim could easily make out the minute tremors in the stiff shoulders, as Blair’s whole body radiated his hurt, while the tightness of his lips, the blush spreading from neck to hairline and lowered gaze visible in profile bore testament to his struggle not to break down and cry in angry frustration. 

Visibly sympathetic, Megan crossed over to him, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she said softly, “It’s OK, Blair. You can go back to work now, all right? I’m so sorry you’ve been upset, but I promise it’ll be OK, love. Go on, now,” and she pushed him gently towards the door. 

With a grateful look, and nod of assent, Blair made his escape, hoping that that was the end of it, and determined to lose himself in his work for the next couple of hours, thinking about everything but the chance encounter with the buff police officer.  


\----------------------  


While Blair had been lost in thought, Jim had calmed down somewhat, as had the young woman, who had introduced herself as Megan Connor, one of the three lawyers who made up Gillespie and Associates. 

Originally from New South Wales in Australia, she had been an Inspector in the police before becoming disillusioned with certain aspects of the legal system, so had turned her attention to becoming a defence lawyer, her idealism still relatively untarnished as she set herself to defend those who had no one else to stand up for them. 

The small firm of Gillespie and Associates had a reputation for taking on apparently lost causes, with the senior partner, Walter Gillespie, very much in favour of his team doing as much pro bono work as possible. Finding the set-up very much to her taste, Megan gratefully accepted an offer of employment, and had quickly gained a reputation for tenacity and honesty, a characteristic only too often completely missing from the make-up of many defence lawyers – at least, in Jim’s admittedly cynical opinion. 

Having already confirmed that Blair Sandburg was legitimately employed as the firm’s janitor, she waited until the young man had returned to his work in another part of the building before discussing him further, thus saving him from further embarrassment, and then only because she wanted to make very sure that the big detective was satisfied and would then leave them all well alone. 

In answer to Jim’s probing questions, she provided a swift and concise explanation as to how Blair had come to them, unaware of the full effect her words were having on the big man. 

Explaining that he had been released on parole following a short prison sentence for smuggling – and she made it very clear that she thought it was a complete miscarriage of justice – his parole officer had sent him to see Mr Gillespie, knowing that the firm needed a janitor, and that he had a name for helping lame ducks. Liking what he saw of the young man, Gillespie had hired him immediately, much to Blair’s relief and gratitude, and over the past few weeks had had no reason to regret his decision. 

Indeed, all three partners were already more than fond of the sweet-natured, if wounded young man, and were all very protective of him. Megan in particular desperately wanted to reopen his case, because she was certain he was genuinely innocent, but Blair knew that it was his word against Buckner’s and the Customs officer’s, and he didn’t want to rock the boat now that he had some measure of freedom again. 

A return to jail would destroy him, and was to be avoided at all costs. 

By this time, Jim had heard enough, and was ready to take his leave of the passionate lady lawyer, frustrated and disgusted with the fact that the first person he had met since contracting his mysterious ‘illness’ who had made him feel good again – well, actually better than good – turned out to be some sort of ex-con. Wonderful. 

And as he strode out of the building, angry at the world in general, he couldn’t help but notice that the further he left the office behind, the more unruly his senses became, until he was virtually back to square one. 

Someone up there really did hate him....  


\--------------------------  


**Later that evening:**  


Blair sighed in frustration as he sat cross-legged on the small, hard cot in his tiny room at the hostel where he was staying with a few other parolees. He had been trying to meditate, with little success, and rubbing his hands over his face, uncurled his legs and stood, stretching to get the kinks out of his spine before wandering over to his single grimy window to stare out at the dingy street outside. 

Although he had tried hard to put aside his dramatic – hell, hysterical - reaction to the altercation with the big detective, he had been unsuccessful for the most part, since the menial nature of his work left him free to lose himself in thoughts he would rather not have. 

Having left the office after work, he had caught the bus down-town to check in with his parole officer at the pre-arranged hour, punctilious in his time-keeping, because he wanted nothing to threaten his precarious freedom. He was more than grateful that he had been released so early, due to a fortuitous combination of prison overcrowding, his exemplary behaviour, and the non-violent nature of his ‘crime’. 

He had, in fact, served less than a year of his sentence, but it was more than long enough to have damaged the ex-student profoundly, even though he still tried gamely to see the best in everything now he was once more outside the prison walls and away from the man who had turned out to be a strange combination of both nemesis and protector. 

Shuddering at the memory, he wrenched his thoughts away and considered instead the irony of his chance meeting that afternoon. 

Knowing there was no chance now of ever returning to his studies at Rainier, or anywhere else for that matter, he still couldn’t help but retain his fascination with his chosen doctoral subject, even the stress and horror of prison life unable to entirely destroy his natural inquisitiveness and desire to learn. When he had spotted the big detective and witnessed his dramatic reaction to the burglar alarm, he had immediately recognised the clues for what they were – proof that the man had at least one or two senses enhanced, and obviously no idea of how to control them. 

Although Blair’s studies had been limited thus far to Sentinel and Guide pairs in pre-civilised societies, he knew enough to be able to help a potential Sentinel in distress, even though he was still dubious about his own ability as the Shaman the Chopec pair had declared him to be so many months ago. Not only that, but he had felt a profound attraction to the man – before the detective had thrown him down and slapped the cuffs on him, anyway – and he couldn’t prevent the shiver of desire that shook him, even though such thoughts were hopeless now. 

Why on earth would a cop even consider approaching an ex-con for help? It wasn’t going to happen, so Blair told himself sternly to get over himself and concentrate on recreating some sort of acceptable future for himself. 

Deciding he needed some small distraction, he left his drab little room and went down to the dingy canteen where he could get a meal of some sort, and perhaps play a hand of cards with one or two of his fellow parolees, who on the whole weren’t a bad bunch, all having been, like him, candidates for early discharge, accused and convicted of non-violent if stupid crimes.   


\-------------------------------  


Some while later Blair folded his hand of cards, and said goodnight to his companions before taking himself off to bed, hoping that he was tired enough now to be able to get a few hours’ decent sleep. It seemed like mere minutes later when Blair shot up in bed, a scream dying in his throat, sobbing and shaking in distress, terrified once again by the nightmares which were never far away, but undoubtedly triggered this time by his encounter with the muscular cop. 

Desperately trying to control his panicked breaths, heart thundering so loud that he imagined that Bernie next door could probably hear him, he fought to untangle himself from his knotted sheets and made his way unsteadily to his tiny tabletop refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water, pathetically grateful for the dim glow from the nightlight he always used these days in a vain bid to keep the demons at bay. 

Drinking deeply, he felt himself relax slightly, although he knew that if he was to get any more sleep tonight, it would be a very long time coming.  


\--------------------------  


As always, his dreams had been of his short but devastating spell in prison, where his innocence had been brutally stripped from him within hours of his arrival. He never did know for sure how he came to share a cell with Bo Mason, a violent lifer and known murderer and rapist, although Mason himself boasted that he had enough clout within the prison system to demand whatever tasty morsel he fancied. 

Shivering in horror, Blair recalled the moment when he had been thrust into the cell, still naked from the humiliating induction process and clutching his bundle of prison-issue clothing to his chest in shaking arms. As the guard pushed him inside with a cruelly amused comment of, “There ya go, Bo! Enjoy!” he barely registered the slam of the cell door behind him as a giant of a man pushed himself up lazily on one elbow from where he had been lying on the top bunk, surveying Blair’s trembling body from head to foot with a lascivious leer. 

Bo Mason was a big man in every sense of the word. A towering African American, liberally covered in prison tats, including his shaved head, he stood at least 6’4” and was built like the heavyweight boxer he had been training to be before falling in with a local gang. Eagerly turning his fighting skills away from the boxing ring and towards intimidation and other criminal violence, he enjoyed the rewards his dedication thrust his way. Arrogant and brutal, he embraced his new life of crime, which, for a short while at least, paid him handsomely not only in monetary terms, but in securing him his pick of sexual partners to satisfy his voracious appetite. Male or female, willing or unwilling, it made little difference to him, although the latters’ struggles made for more amusement. 

As Blair stood before him, trembling and wide-eyed in dread, Bo slid smoothly down from his bunk, eyeing his prey and liking what he saw, and more than satisfied with the boy’s horrified reaction. 

“Well now, pretty! Ain’t you the cutest little piece of white ass? Sure am goin’ to have fun breaking you in, Sweetcheeks! Course, if’n I don’t get my satisfaction, you won’t be around long enough to serve your term, hon! 

“Now, just you put your clothes down on that bunk, and let’s get to the fun part, huh?” 

What happened then was etched permanently in Blair’s memory, and still had the power to make him almost physically sick to his stomach with fear and humiliation. 

With the guards no doubt enjoying the spectacle through the cell door’s small window, Bo had thrown Blair face down on the lower bunk, pinning him effortlessly despite his pleading and futile struggles, exploring the slender body at leisure before raping him for the first of so many times. 

Although constantly in fear for his life, bleeding, battered and bruised black and blue, over the next few days Blair somehow managed to earn some bizarre sort of favour with the huge man, such that Bo claimed him as his own, jealously ‘protecting’ his little white bitch from then on so that at least Blair had little trouble with attempted assaults from other quarters. In fact, the only ones who had the effrontery to try anything on with the ex-student quickly found themselves in the prison infirmary with broken hands and limbs – that is, if Bo was feeling lenient on those days. 

Concerned with nothing but survival for the foreseeable future, Blair performed as his ‘Daddy’ demanded, ruthlessly stomping down on his unwanted pride and humiliation, and submitting himself unstintingly to Bo’s every whim. 

The upside to this ‘protection’ and Bo’s very obvious inside influence also ensured that he soon received a cushy job in the prison library so he was able to avoid the type of confrontation he might have expected in the open workshops. 

Digging deep into his reserves of inner strength, he ruthlessly shut out the disparaging and insulting words of his fellow prisoners, focussing resolutely on simply enduring from one day to the next, to be almost overwhelmed with relief and tentative hope when he was informed that he was going in front of the parole board far sooner than he would have expected. 

Determinedly schooling himself to impress and positively influence the board members, he was overjoyed to find himself granted parole even though he feared what Bo’s reaction might be to losing his well-trained bitch so soon. 

To his astonishment, Mason took the news surprisingly well, and didn’t seem to bear a grudge, no doubt well aware that he could get himself another fresh piece of tail with little difficulty. In fact, on his last night in prison, having performed satisfactorily despite his trepidation, Bo had simply slapped his well-used butt and laughed as he took himself back up to the top bunk. 

“Sure gonna miss your pretty white ass, honey! Got to say I’ve had way worse. 

“Just you make sure you get yourself another Daddy good as me when you get outside.” Sniggering at his own dark humour, he fell asleep, leaving Blair to try and get some rest himself, mind working overtime and his emotions a swirling turmoil of fear, self-disgust, relief and nervous anticipation.  


\------------------------  


**Earlier that afternoon:**  


For the next couple of hours after leaving Gillespie and Associates’ office, Jim had carried on walking, annoyed that his senses were deteriorating again, but determined to get some sort of handle on them before returning to the PD to report to his captain. 

For a while he fantasised that he was in a classroom, writing out 100 times ‘I must control my senses’ on the blackboard. The only problem was that he began to imagine the squeak of the chalk and the occasional screech as his fingernails scraped the surface, so that with a grimace of disgust he quickly gave up on that one. Nevertheless, as he concentrated with every bit of his considerable will-power, he managed to attain a modicum of control; enough at least to consider returning to the office anyway. 

He couldn’t, however, forget the instant relief he had experienced whilst in the company of the young janitor. 

Thinking back – and with the perfect recall of an Alpha Sentinel, if he did but know it - he remembered every moment of the encounter and every facet of the young man’s physical appearance. Small and slender, probably no more than 5’7’’ tall, despite the bulky overalls Jim could tell that Sandburg was perfectly proportioned and most likely moderately muscled if not actually buff. His short but unruly dark auburn curls framed a beautiful face, almost too pretty for a man, with huge blue eyes ringed with thick dark lashes, a neat nose and the lushest, most full-lipped mouth Jim had seen in a long while on anyone, man or woman. 

Abruptly surprised and angry at himself at the familiar twitch and surge of heat in his groin, he found it infuriating that the first interest he had had in that department since the onset of his crazy sensitivity just _had_ to be over a pretty boy, and an ex-con at that. _Just typical,_ he groused to himself. _Someone somewhere must be laughing their ass off at me, for sure!_

It wasn’t that he didn’t recognise and accept the fact that he swung both ways; it just didn’t seem like a good idea to flaunt it in a macho environment like the PD, so he had never followed up on any potential male dates thus far. 

Grinding his teeth in frustration, he tried to forcibly drag his thoughts away from the contemplation of Sandburg’s attributes to other topics. Important topics such as how he was going to keep a grip on his sanity, only for his sense memory to kick in and sabotage his efforts by reminding him of the young man’s deliciously enticing scent – up until Jim had slapped the cuffs on him, anyway – and the rich and resonant tones of his speaking voice. 

By the time he arrived back in the MCU bullpen, he had determined that, despite his pessimistic assumption that the kid was probably going to prove to be disappointingly flawed, for his own peace of mind he was going to perform a full background check anyway. 

One thing was for sure. He wasn’t going to mention anything to Simon Banks about the episode for the time being. He really didn’t need any more scorn poured on him by his superior officer, at least, not without some proper information to back up his story. 

As expected, after delivering Dr Bryant’s less-than-helpful report to his grim-faced boss, Jim found himself relegated to spending the rest of the afternoon on desk duty. For once this didn’t irritate him at all, because he used the time to pull up every available detail he could find about young Mr Sandburg. He started by pulling the young man’s ‘jacket’, thinking that familiarising himself with of what exactly the guy had been convicted would be a good start. 

The first thing Jim noted was Sandburg’s mug shot. 

The lovely face was marred by an expression that combined both exhaustion and desperate disillusion, at least to Jim’s uncharacteristically fanciful scrutiny, as if the boy had just witnessed the destruction of his youthful innocence – which indeed he probably had. 

Secondly, Jim couldn’t help but note the long, curly locks which reached below Sandburg’s shoulders, and he found himself regretting the fact that the young man now wore it so much shorter, and seemed to have dispensed with his earrings. 

Reading on, he was somewhat surprised at Sandburg’s tender age, and couldn’t help but wonder how a grad student that smart could possibly lack the common sense and self-preservation to have attempted to get away with such a monumentally stupid act. Then again, the kid had maintained his ‘Not Guilty’ plea throughout, which probably hadn’t earned him any favours in the long run. 

Jim recognised with a wince the name of the Judge before whom Sandburg had appeared. Judge Josiah Windham was undoubtedly one of the most narrow-minded, conservative assholes he had ever had the misfortune to come across, so he could picture only too well how the hearing would have gone. He was pretty certain that His Honour probably took one look at the young man’s hair and earrings and immediately decided that he deserved double the sentence he had first thought of. 

Even then it might not have turned out so badly for Sandburg if he had had someone – or some source – to pay his punitive fine, but Jim had to admit that having to serve an alternative of jail-time for such a relatively innocuous offence was more than a little harsh, especially knowing the sort of environment that existed in Starkville Prison’s General Population. 

It wasn’t as if the young man wouldn’t be punished enough by being sent down from Rainier, which he would undoubtedly have been once convicted. 

All in all, Jim considered that Blair Sandburg was possibly one of the unluckiest petty criminals he had ever come across. But then again, what if he really was innocent? He certainly hadn’t struck Jim as being in any way stupid during their admittedly brief encounter, and that loud-mouthed lady lawyer, Megan Connor, insisted that he was blameless to the point of wanting to re-visit the case on his behalf. 

Then again, Jim thought with a mental shrug, it wasn’t anything he should be concerned with, unless he should discover some compelling reason to reacquaint himself with the enigmatic young man. 

Glancing at his watch, and about to give up on his search in favour of getting some real work done, he decided on the spur of the moment to take a look at what the boy had been studying at Rainier, and was amazed to see that he already had his Masters in Anthropology on some subject involving ‘Tribal Sentinels’. 

Thanks to the wonders of the Web, in next to no time he was able to pull up a synopsis of Sandburg’s thesis, and was immediately captivated by the content. Completely enthralled at the premise that there were other individuals out there somewhere who exhibited similar symptoms to his own affliction, he determined to go to Rainier after work to see if he could track down a copy of the complete document so he could study it in depth. After all, there _could_ be something in it to help him control the damned senses, or better still, turn them off.  


\------------------------------  


A short while later Jim finished a last few items of paperwork, and headed out with Simon Banks’ words ringing in his ears. 

The big dark-skinned man, although personally sympathetic to Ellison’s problems and all in favour of finding a workable solution if possible, actually had more than enough of his own to deal with in terms of running an overworked and undermanned department in the face of continuing budget cuts. His grudging suggestion that Jim take the weekend off to see if he could get a handle on his wayward senses was therefore met with surprise and gratitude on Jim’s part. 

Jim didn’t even find it in him to feel resentful at his boss’ acerbic additional comment that he might just as well take the time, because no one wanted to be partnered with him in the field anyway. 

Feeling just a tad more hopeful and light-hearted as he drove out of the PD’s parking garage, Jim decided to grab a snack before heading straight over to Rainier University’s library to see if he could get a peek at that Sentinel study.  


\---------------------------------  


An hour or so later found Jim seated in a quiet corner near the Anthropology book stacks, poring over what had to be one of the most fascinating academic documents he had ever read, willingly or otherwise. 

On arrival at the front desk, a petite and pretty librarian was only too willing to show him where the bound copies of students’ Masters and Doctoral theses and dissertations were housed; although she made it clear that they were for reference only, and not to be removed from the building. However, there was no problem with Jim reading in the library for as long as he liked, and she was more than happy to pull out Blair Sandburg’s document for him. 

Before she left him in peace to read, however, she commented quietly that she had been very sorry when Blair had been arrested, as had many other people here at the University, and that she, for one, believed he had been set up. 

Nodding sympathetically, but offering no comment, Jim settled down to his task. 

Much later, Jim straightened up in his seat, having read the document from cover to cover, and amazed to see that it was almost 10.00 pm, and the library was about to close. Taking the book back to the librarian with a smile and word of thanks, he drove home to his loft apartment deep in thought, but not sorry he had made the effort to do a little research. 

He undoubtedly had plenty to think about, and was now looking forward to using the upcoming weekend to do more, and that was definitely going to involve seeking out young Master Sandburg.  


\------------------------  


**Saturday morning:**  


The following morning found Jim up bright and early, surprisingly up-beat despite breakfast tasting as bad as ever, and the fumes from the washing up liquid setting him off on a round of sneezing. 

Determinedly focussed on the coming day’s activities, he grabbed keys, coat, badge and weapon, and set out for his first port of call – Gillespie and Associates’ office – in the hope that the young janitor worked on Saturdays. On arrival, he announced himself over the intercom on the outside door, and was buzzed in by the single occupant, who turned out to be the firm’s third partner, Joel Taggart. 

Inviting Jim into his own office, the portly but very genial African American introduced himself before admitting that he was the only one covering the office this morning, as his partners, Walter Gillespie and Megan Connor, were both taking a bit of well-earned down-time following several weeks’ worth of heavy case-work. However, the man’s friendly attitude slipped noticeably when Jim asked whether Blair Sandburg was working that morning, quickly joining the dots and realising that this was the same detective that Megan had told him about at some length: the one who had scared their small friend so badly. 

“What do you want to see Blair for, Detective Ellison?” he asked suspiciously. “I can assure you he hasn’t been up to anything. Far from it! The boy’s a delight, and we’re lucky to have him.” 

“Er, no. No, it’s nothing he’s done. Really! It’s just that I know I scared him badly yesterday, and I just wanted to apologise in person...” and Jim tailed off, trying not to squirm under the other man’s frowning regard and annoyed at himself for his unwonted reaction. 

Nodding, but plainly not completely mollified, Joel replied, “Hmmm, yes, well, that’s good. I mean, that you realise that you did scare the boy. 

“But I’m afraid you’re out of luck, because you’ve already missed him. He only comes in for an hour or so on Saturdays, and early in the morning at that. You could try looking for him in the city library, because he still loves to read and study, and, of course, he’s _persona non grata_ at Rainier...” the man finished sadly. 

“Then again,” he added with more enthusiasm, “he might be at the Natural History Museum! He was telling me that there are a couple of new South American exhibits he wanted to view.” 

“Thanks for the information, Mr Taggart, but perhaps it would be easier just to catch him at home?” Jim offered hopefully. 

“Um, no. No, I’m sorry, Detective Ellison, but I don’t feel comfortable about giving out his personal details. Now, if there’s nothing else?” and he got to his feet, plainly intending to show Jim to the door. 

Realising he wasn’t going to learn anything else from this source, Jim stood, understanding the man’s reticence, even if he resented it. 

“OK, well, thanks again, Mr Taggart, and when you see Mr Sandburg next, perhaps you could tell him I called?” 

Fixing Jim with a firm gaze, the man replied, “Certainly, Detective. But one more thing. Blair’s good people! All of us here are very fond of him, and we all believe he was innocent of any crime. We’re lucky to have him, and we take care of our employees!” 

Knowing he’d been given fair warning, all Jim could do was nod in acceptance, and, turning for the door, he let himself out. 

Abruptly deciding to by-pass potential time-wasting in tracking the young man down at Joel Taggart’s suggested locations, Jim drove instead to Blair’s Probation Officer’s office, hoping to get a bit more pertinent information from that quarter.  


\---------------------------  


Entering the rather dingy office in a seedier area of the business district, Jim introduced himself to Gerald Parker, another giant of a man, only this time in girth as much as in height, which was probably just under six feet tall anyhow. With thin, gingery hair brushed over his scalp in a very obvious comb-over, and a large, red, and bulbous nose beneath piggy eyes, Parker might have appeared somewhat comical and ineffectual to the uninitiated, but to the more observant, like Jim, there was a glint of pure steel in the small eyes, and the ready smile disguised a shrewd and perspicacious soul. 

Carefully checking Jim’s ID, Parker asked, “And what brings you to my humble abode, Detective? Can’t say I’ve had any problems with no-shows lately, so what’s up?” 

“Actually, it’s just some information concerning one of your guys – a Blair Sandburg. I’d like to speak with him, and I wanted his present address?” 

“Hey, no!” Parker’s response was immediate and forceful. “Blair’s an OK guy, Detective! I can’t believe he’d get himself into some other shit! No way, man. 

“Look, I’m as cynical as the next guy – got to be in this job – but I refuse to believe he would do anything criminal without good cause, get what I’m sayin’? 

“Unless some evil bastard’s got their claws into the kid that is...” he added in an angry undertone. 

Quickly raising his hands in a placatory gesture, Jim replied, “No, no! He hasn’t, as far as I know. It’s just that I want to talk to him unofficially, you know? Nothing untoward at all, I assure you. But when I went to his place of work today, I was told that he’d already left, and they weren’t prepared to give me his home address. That’s all I’m after, and I’m happy to give you contact details for me, my boss at MCU, and anything else you need to prove I’m above board. 

“What do you say?” 

Long moments later, Parker released Jim from his gimlet stare, and heaved a sigh of acceptance. 

“OK, Detective. As long as you’re on the level, and my instinct tells me you are, I’ll give you the address. 

“But if I hear of anything untoward happening to that kid, I’ll be on you like white on rice, OK?” and he pulled out a file and scribbled a few lines on a post-it note. 

“Message received and understood, Parker!” replied Jim with a touch of weary resignation as he reached out to receive the note. 

“OK. OK, I believe you, Ellison. ‘Cause that’s a good kid, ya hear me? Fixed a glitch in my computer programme without even bein’ asked! Just volunteered, ya know? Hurt him, and you’ll have me to deal with. 

“Just so’s you know....!” and he also rose to show Jim the door, leaving the somewhat perplexed detective to ponder on how come his small target got so many people to pull for him, and so quickly?  


\------------------------  


Mentally crossing his fingers, but suspecting he was about to be disappointed again, Jim pulled up in front of the shabby hostel indicated in Parker’s note, and took a deep breath before climbing out of his truck and approaching the building. However, just as he reached the peeling entrance door, he was assailed by a rhythmic drum-beat, which he found as calming as it was unexpected. Cocking his head in an unconsciously instinctive ‘listening’ pose, he was also amazed to make out the well-remembered silky tones of Sandburg clearly talking to himself, and murmuring some kind of mantra or chant. 

With a grim smile, Jim pushed open the door, and easily and deliberately seeking out his prey, he stalked up a couple of flights of dirty stairs, directly to the room where his target resided.  


\--------------------------  


**Same morning, Blair’s room:**  


With a tired sigh, Blair entered his room and leaned back against the closed door for a moment, before willing himself to move away. 

After a restless night, when the only brief periods of actual sleep were constantly interrupted by nightmares of so many assaults visited upon him in prison; which, in these most recent versions interchanged Detective Ellison with Bo Mason as his attacker; Blair had finally given up on trying to get any more relief, and had dragged himself out of bed to get himself ready for his short, early morning shift. 

Leaving the hostel in the pre-dawn half-light, he had taken several deep, cleansing breaths in an attempt to clear his muddled thoughts before catching the bus to the business quarter and his place of work. 

Arriving at Gillespie and Associates’ office building, he let himself in, having been entrusted with the key code – something which had been so fundamentally basic, but so healing for his damaged self-esteem that he had almost burst into tears at the unconscious kindness of the gesture – and made immediately for the closet where his cleaning materials were stored, wanting to get everything spick and span before the lawyers arrived for their first cases of the day. 

A short while later, he was just finishing up when Joel Taggart appeared, greeting Blair with a cheerful word and friendly pat on the shoulder before explaining that he was the only one in today, and suggesting that if he had the time, Blair might want to share a Danish and cup of coffee with him? 

Diffident as always, Blair had been convinced when he saw the big man’s genuine smile, and smelled the delicious aroma of fresh pastries in the opened box, and smiling shyly, sat down for a few companionable minutes with the lawyer. 

As always, under the other man’s gentle coaxing, Blair found himself opening up slightly, to the extent of having an actual conversation, and finding that Joel was genuinely interested in what he had to say. That in itself was more help to him than Blair could possibly find words to describe, and words were – or, at least, had been – one of his strongest suits. 

Soon, however, the pastries and coffee were finished, and Blair had taken his leave after clearing away the debris, exiting the office to Joel’s cheerful words of farewell. 

Feeling admittedly more upbeat thanks to the kindly lawyer’s attention, he decided to return to his room to take a shower and change out of his overalls before taking himself off downtown to the Natural History Museum, where he knew he could spend a few happy hours wandering around the new exhibits, all the better because entrance was free on this occasion, and wouldn’t take up any of his meagre earnings. 

Despite his intentions, however, tiredness overwhelmed him once he was seated on the bus, and by the time he had dragged himself into the hostel and back up to his tiny room, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he ought to try and have a brief nap, or maybe do a little meditation before going out again. 

Moving into the room, he shuffled the few steps needed to reach the unmade single bed, and stripped off his overalls before pulling on his ratty bathrobe and grabbing clean underwear and his toilet bag in preparation for a shower in the shared bathroom down the hall. 

Absently noting that he would have to do some laundry as he was rapidly running out of clean clothes, his mood darkened as once again it was brought home to him how little he actually owned now. 

Although always scrimping and scrambling to survive on his grant money and small student loans, he had had a few precious possessions that meant a lot to him, such as a few photographs, inexpensive but much-loved artefacts and knickknacks from his travels, and, of course, as many books as he could scrape up the money to buy. He had also managed to acquire a second-hand laptop, which had been his pride and joy, but, like virtually everything else, was now lost to him. 

Slumping down onto the bed, he couldn’t help but give himself over to his depression for a few moments, eventually becoming aware of the silent tears sliding uninvited down his face before scolding himself soundly to get over the pity party before it settled in for the day. 

The fact was that, on his release from prison, his backpack and duffel bag had been returned to him – minus the confiscated artefacts, of course – but when he had approached his landlord, he found to his dismay that the guy had packed up all his meagre belongings, selling what he could to cover delinquent rent monies, and throwing the rest out in the trash. 

Although most of his books and papers (and the laptop) had been stored in the tiny cubby hole of an office which Blair had shared with Tim Davidson, Blair knew he couldn’t set foot on campus now, and was pretty sure Davidson would have rifled through his remaining stuff anyway and taken his pick of material before dumping the rest. 

As it happened, although Blair had no way of knowing it, his student helper had actually boxed up his stuff before Tim could get his hands on it, and taken it upon herself to hide it in a basement storage area in the hope that one day her beloved professor would be reinstated. 

Unaware of any such generosity on his behalf, Blair gave himself a determined shake, and made his way to the bathroom, hoping that the other lodgers hadn’t taken up all the hot water again. Finding to his delight that there was still hot water aplenty, Blair stepped gratefully into the refreshing spray even if the poor water pressure meant that it could hardly compare with most folks’ idea of a real shower. Nevertheless, he spent the minimum time necessary to get himself clean, having learned the hard way that lingering in the shower in prison only led to unwelcome attention. 

Expression tightening at the thought, Blair unwillingly glanced down his body, twisting slightly despite his best intentions to catch a glimpse of his right butt cheek where Bo Mason’s mark remained, to Blair’s shame and embarrassment. Having claimed Blair as his bitch, Bo had insisted on giving his property his personal ‘brand’ so that no one else would be in any doubt as to whom the boy belonged. Creating the ‘masterpiece’ himself as Blair cried into his battered pillow in pain and shame, the crude tattoo resembled the sort of brand used on cattle – an intertwined B and M within a ragged circle – and as long as it remained Blair knew he could never show himself voluntarily to anyone again. 

Eventually he hoped to be able to afford to have it lasered off, and then perhaps he could truly begin to heal emotionally as well as physically. He had made a start, after all, by cutting his hair as soon as he was released, wanting to expunge the memories of being held down by Bo’s hands tangled in the long curls. 

Drying himself off with more vigour than strictly necessary, Blair deliberately turned his thoughts to the exhibition, and, summoning up a modicum of his still surviving, if very battered innate enthusiasm, contemplated the possible content of the displays he was about to see. 

Donning his clean underwear, he slipped on his robe and returned to his room, where he pulled out clean outerwear before settling on his bed in a full lotus position, thankful that the continuing mild weather meant that he could meditate comfortably in boxers and tee. 

Consciously regulating his breathing and heart rate, he sought his centre, murmuring his favourite mantra; little realising that the man who was to radically alter his life was even now approaching his building.   


\-----------------------------  


As Jim reached Blair’s door, he took a few moments to indulge himself in the calming effect of the low murmuring coming from within, and the accompanying rhythmic drumming. 

However, abruptly realising that he had just had the proverbial ‘light-bulb’ switch on in his head, he instinctively knew that the drumming was actually a heartbeat – Sandburg’s, to be exact - and he chose to take the discovery as a further indication that the small ex-grad student was of significant importance to his own well-being. 

Not wishing to delay the potentially momentous meeting any longer, he raised his hand and rapped firmly on the door to be immediately perplexed by the dramatic increase in the heartbeat from within, which seemed to him to be approaching a dangerously high level, whilst the enticing scent he realised he had also been enjoying was once again tainted by fear and anxiety. 

Seconds later, movement from within warned him that Sandburg was nearing the door, while a rather shaky voice enquired, “Um ...Who’s there?” 

“It’s Detective Ellison, Mr Sandburg. I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Mind if I come in?” 

Now Blair had had nearly a year of conditioning to respond immediately to similar commands, so he automatically reached up a shaking hand to disengage the rather flimsy lock. However, some deeply buried survival instinct made him leave the feeble chain in place, and he peered nervously through the small gap to confirm the visitor’s identity, and that he was alone. With an audible swallow, he reached up and slid back the chain, stepping back immediately, arms crossed protectively over his chest, as the big detective entered. 

As the other man’s eyes quickly and automatically raked him from top to toe, Blair abruptly realised that he was still clad only in his underwear, and his feelings of embarrassment and vulnerability ratcheted up his overall anxiety level another notch. 

“Um, I was just, um, meditating, man,” he stuttered in explanation. “I…um...I’ll just get dressed, OK?” and he quickly scuttled to the hard-backed chair where his outerwear of clean but well-worn jeans and a flannel shirt lay folded, blushing furiously as he fumbled his way into the clothing and completely missing – perhaps luckily – the flash of disappointment that crossed Jim’s face, because he had certainly been appreciating the view. 

Feeling just a little more comfortable now he was fully clothed, Blair once again turned his full attention on his visitor. 

Despite the guy’s obvious attempt at reassurance, Blair no longer trusted any representative of the police or legal system (with the exception of his friends at Gillespie’s, of course) and he was getting a seriously bad feeling about this whole situation. 

“Er, look, man, I was just going out, you know? I mean, when I’d finished meditating and all,” he babbled. “So, er, could we make this fast, please, Detective?” and he gulped nervously, praying that the big man would actually respond to his plea and get whatever he needed to say over as quickly as possible. 

Regretting that the kid was so uptight, but fully understanding the reason for it, Jim replied in a conciliatory tone. “Look, Sandburg, I’m sorry to butt in on your Saturday, but I wanted to talk to you about something which could help me – us – a great deal if you’re prepared to listen? 

“For a start, I really am sorry to have scared you like that yesterday, Chief. Like I explained to Ms Connor and again to Mr Taggart this morning, it was an instinctive reaction and I can only apologise again for frightening you so much. 

“Thing is, I think you have more than an inkling of why I reacted like that, don’t you? I mean, I did a little checking up on you, Chief, and I found out about your interest in Sentinel studies--” and that was as far as he got before Blair blanched dramatically and swayed dizzily, both amazed and horrified that the big man had made the connection. 

_Oh holy crap! Was he in trouble now! A cop and an ex-con – no way!_

Once again he felt big hands grasp him, only this time with gentle support rather than violent control; although in his present state of mind it made little difference to Blair’s panic level. Experiencing a flashback of almighty proportions, to other large hands gripping, subduing, hurting, he moaned in terror as his knees buckled in dreadful anticipation of the upcoming assault. 

As for Jim, he heard the spike in Sandburg’s heart rate a millisecond before the wide, terrified eyes rolled up in his head and Blair dropped senseless, only supported by Jim’s grip on his upper arms as he carefully lowered the limp body on to the bed. 

It was several minutes before the young man came back to himself, during which time Jim had had the opportunity to quickly check out the dingy little room and note just how little Sandburg seemed to possess. Having run to the bathroom to fetch a damp facecloth with which to bathe the wide brow, Jim waited with remarkable patience for the other man to regain consciousness, only to fear that he would pass out again, so severe was his reaction to seeing Jim looming over him as he lay helpless on the bed. 

In truth, Blair had flashed back to Bo leaning over him, either to pin him down in preparation for the inevitable rape, or on the occasions when his ‘Daddy’ thought he needed punishing for some – usually imaginary – wrongdoing. 

“No, oh god, please! I didn’t do anything, please Daddy, please!” Blair whimpered, trying desperately to scoot backwards in the bed away from the shadowy figure frowning down at him in consternation. 

“Goddammit, Sandburg, I’m not your ‘Daddy’! Get a grip, kid! It’s me – Jim Ellison!” the other man growled in exasperation and no little embarrassment, because yet again he had succeeded in scaring the living daylights out of the young man. 

How in Heaven’s name they were going to have a sensible conversation at this rate he really didn’t know, and it was only the knowledge that he really needed what Sandburg could tell him that kept him from making his excuses and heading out the door. 

With a supreme effort of will, which Jim would later regard with a measure of admiration, the trembling youngster pulled himself together enough to struggle up into a sitting position, his wide, solemn gaze fixed firmly on Jim’s face. 

Realising that Blair wouldn’t appreciate any physical assistance from him right now; Jim sat back and kept his hands to himself, doing his level best to appear non-threatening. 

Ducking his head and blushing crimson with embarrassment, Blair finally muttered, “I’m sorry, man. I guess you must think I’m a real wuss. It’s just that, I didn’t have such a good time in lock-up, you know? And sometimes it’s so easy to get lost in the nightmares...” he tailed off softly. 

Now feeling like a genuine heel, Jim cursed himself for his impatient insensitivity (Hah!) and had the grace to answer somewhat abashedly, “It’s OK, Chief. I understand. I read your jacket after all, and I think that jail-time for someone like you was pretty darned cruel punishment under the circumstances. 

“Look, I’ve got an idea. How about we go somewhere neutral, say, like the museum, so you won’t feel intimidated by me? Mr Taggart said he thought you wanted to see some exhibits, so what say I go with you, and we can talk as we go round, huh? 

“I mean,” he continued with a rueful grin, “How boring could it be?” 

And he was smugly gratified when Blair responded as expected, declaring passionately, “They won’t be boring man! Truly! Even if you’re not really into anthropology, I can guarantee...” and then he tailed off again, reading the satisfaction and gentle humour in the big detective’s face, and realising that he had been played and masterfully. 

Grinning shyly in response, he murmured, “Nice one, man! Really got me going there! But seriously, if it’s OK with you, I do want to see the exhibits, and I’ll try to fill you in with what you want to know, even if it doesn’t go any further,” and he glanced away, but not before Jim saw the fleeting glimpse of sadness and longing which crossed the mobile features. 

Not wanting to labour the point, Jim smiled and, clapping his hands together, said cheerfully, “Right then! Let’s get going, Chief! I’ve got my ride here, so we can be at the museum in a few.” Getting to his feet, he glanced from Blair to the door in unfeigned anticipation, giving the other man no reason or opportunity to change his mind.  


\--------------------------  


**Part 2: A Mountain of Evidence:**  


The short trip downtown to the museum was carried out in virtual silence as Blair was clearly uneasy at being in the truck alone with Jim, and in Jim’s opinion was probably regretting having agreed to accompany him when there was so much opportunity for the cop to take advantage of him. Respecting Sandburg’s silence, Jim kept any remarks inconsequential, and tried not to study his passenger overtly, although he couldn’t help but sneak the occasional peek, because even as nervous as hell, Sandburg made a pretty picture. 

Huddled against the passenger door, he leant his head against the window and kept the wide and worried blue gaze averted, while a small but elegant hand rubbed up and down his thigh in what was probably an unconscious nervous gesture. His full lower lip was nibbled by even white teeth and his position showcased the long, tempting neck which Jim suddenly found himself wanting to nibble and taste. 

Swiftly stomping down on that train of thought, Jim concentrated on the road ahead, and was relieved when they arrived at the museum parking lot, to snag an empty spot not too far from the entrance. 

“Here we go, Chief,” he exclaimed with somewhat forced joviality. “Ready to convince me that I’m not going to be bored to tears?” and he was pleased to see a tiny grin appear on the pale face, while a spark of mischief flashed in the big blue eyes. 

“No problem, Detective. There are new exhibits of indigenous peoples from both the North and South Americas, and I think you’ll find something of interest there,” and he took a breath to carry on with his mini-lecture before suddenly shutting down in embarrassment, thinking, _‘Jeez, Sandburg! Way to go! Like this cop wants to hear you babbling on about museum exhibits! Let’s just get this meeting over and done, then perhaps he’ll leave you alone’._

Frowning a little at the smaller man’s sudden withdrawal, Jim chose not to add to his unease on this occasion, so jumped down from the truck and walked around to the passenger side to open the door for Sandburg. 

Taking the young man’s arm briefly as Blair stumbled slightly in climbing out of the high vehicle, Jim released him quickly before he could get upset again, but not before noting yet again the warm tingle he received through the contact. Shooting a glance at Sandburg to see if he felt the same, he decided that the young man was too jumpy already for it to register. 

Realising that his senses all seemed to be cooperating now; and, in fact, had been since he approached Sandburg, even from outside the hostel; he determined to make the most of this opportunity to convince the young man of his sincerity in wanting to learn as much as possible about his condition. 

As they entered the museum, and made their way towards the new exhibits, which were laid out in a splendid newly opened gallery, Blair visibly relaxed as his natural inquisitiveness and enthusiasm gradually resurfaced, and he began to offer the occasional comment. When Jim actually responded positively to him, he opened up even more until, to Jim’s delight, he was providing a knowledgeable and entertaining running commentary, hands beginning to gesticulate eloquently to illustrate his words such that Jim thought to himself that he was probably seeing a glimpse of the real, pre-conviction student and teaching assistant. 

Whereas he might not have been particularly interested in everything his small companion had to say, the animated expressions and honeyed tones soothed the big cop’s senses so that he had no difficulty in grinning amicably down at the enthusiastic figure almost bouncing at his side. Although they had yet to actually touch on what Jim was now thinking of as the ‘Sentinel stuff’, he found he was content for now just to enjoy being the centre of the beautiful young man’s attention. 

Because yes, he really _was_ beautiful. 

Face clear - albeit temporarily – of all traces of fear and shame, Blair positively glowed, radiating an inner sweetness and innocence that even his dreadful experiences in prison hadn’t been able to destroy, and Jim found himself wishing he could find some way of ensuring that the young man would never hurt again. 

However, the happy interlude was soon to be ruined as Blair came face to face with yet another illustration of the cruel and manipulative treatment to which he had been subjected by people he had once liked and admired. 

They were approaching a particular exhibit in the South American gallery, and Blair turned to say, “This is one you’ll want to see, Detective! I think you’ll find it has some pertinent information about...oh!” and he stopped in mid-sentence, freezing in front of the large glass display case where several artefacts had been deliberately placed for closer inspection before visitors moved on to the magnificent diorama of a family grouping from an indigenous Peruvian tribe called the Chopec. 

Instantly concerned for his small companion’s shut down, Jim looked down to see a trembling hand reach out as if to touch a smallish but particularly beautiful pottery vase at the forefront of the display. 

“That...that’s _mine!”_ came the almost soundless whisper. “He took it! He _took_ it!” and suddenly Blair’s lovely face crumpled in tragic despair. 

Realising that they were gathering an unwanted audience, Jim quickly wrapped a strong arm around the shaking shoulders, and steered Blair away and out of the gallery until they found a quiet bench away from the main public rooms. 

Pleased that for once the younger man was too upset to be worried about Jim’s proximity, Jim maintained his comforting hold on the slight figure, and waited patiently until Sandburg had got himself under enough control to explain. 

What he heard made him burn with a deep anger on behalf of his new friend, because yes, that was how Ellison already thought of the younger man. 

Haltingly, voice breaking with barely-contained emotion, Blair recounted the story of the expedition; how thrilled he had been to be chosen, and how wonderful had been the encounter – albeit brief – with the Chopec Sentinel and Guide pair. 

He described his wonder and gratitude at being presented with the vase – the very same one which now sat in the museum exhibition, courtesy of ‘the generosity of Rainier University Anthropology Department’ according to the information placard. 

With tears now leaking from wide, wounded eyes, he also told Jim of the Shaman’s words regarding potential danger for the ‘white Shaman’, although he didn’t dwell on the title bestowed upon him, simply because he honestly had never thought himself worthy of it. 

As he described succinctly the awful incident at Customs on their return to the US, and his subsequent arrest, it was blatantly clear to Jim – as, indeed it was to Blair himself – that he had been set up, and the only people who could have done it were either Dr Buckner or Tim Davidson, or both. 

Grinding his teeth in indignant fury on behalf of his young friend, Jim paused for a moment to consider his unforeseen reaction. Who’d have thought that Jim ‘Hardass’ Ellison could be so aggravated by the hurt of a kid he’d known little more than 24 hours? Yet it was true. He desperately wanted to comfort and protect the little guy; to right the wrongs done to him, and save him from all future pain, unrealistic as the idea was. 

Truth be told, though, the anger was also a little on his own account, because if it hadn’t been for the machinations of those conniving bastards, Blair would be happily enjoying his life in academia, safe from anything worse than a paper cut, and freely available to Jim for help and guidance with his problems. 

As Blair wound down, because he certainly wasn’t about to go into his experiences in court and in prison, he sniffled and rubbed his wet eyes, looking like nothing so much as a little kid, and Jim’s heart went out to him. 

Finally glancing up to throw a brief look of humiliation Jim’s way, Blair started to apologise for his breakdown, only for the big cop to cut him off, saying decisively, “No, Chief, it’s me who’s sorry. If it’s any comfort to you, I believe you, Chief, and, if you’re game, I’m willing to help you clear your name if it’s humanly possible. But you need to be sure, and I don’t want to pressure you, because I know Ms Connor’s already talked to you about it. 

“Now, selfish as it undoubtedly is, I’m hungry, and I’d still like to talk about the Sentinel study if you’re up for it. How about we go get some lunch – my treat – and take it from there?” and he gazed into the troubled blue eyes, hoping against hope that Blair would accept. 

When the young man nodded tentatively in agreement, Jim released a sigh of relief, and, appreciating Sandburg’s courage under the circumstances, said, “OK, Chief. Thanks for that. I know the very place!” and he stood, waiting for the other man to get to his feet, and trying hard not to make anything of the look of trepidation on the young face, which Blair was trying gamely – but unsuccessfully – to control.  


\-----------------------------  


Within a short while, they were seated in a corner booth at a nearby bar with which Jim was familiar. Cosy, and well-known for its selection of beers on tap and home-made food, it was public enough to allay Blair’s fears of being alone with the big cop, but offered a deal of privacy in the booths at back. 

Realising that Blair wasn’t supposed to drink alcohol whilst on probation, Jim decided to forgo his usual beer, and ordered sodas for them both before passing over a menu. 

“Order what you like, Chief,” he said with a small but genuine smile. “You deserve it for all the aggravation I’ve caused you, and I want to get back into your good books so you’ll tell me all about how to deal with my ‘problem’!” 

Gazing at Jim’s open expression and reading the sincerity there, Blair relaxed slightly, and said softly, “Thanks, Detective Ellison. It’s very kind of you, but not necessary. I mean, I’m willing to tell you as much as I can, although once you have as much information as I can give you, it’ll be up to you who you tell, because you’ll need some back-up, especially in your job...” and he ducked his head, surprised at the flash of jealousy that ran through him at the thought of someone else working with this man who was undoubtedly the embodiment of his most cherished desire – a full, modern Sentinel. 

_‘Get a grip, Sandburg’,_ he thought, sternly grappling with his unrealistic wishes. _‘It’s not as if he needs a loser like you, or even likes you, for that matter! He’s just doing this to be kind!’_

Looking up again to meet Jim’s gaze, he was taken aback to see the gentle smile of understanding on the handsome face as Jim replied, “Don’t let’s worry about that just yet, OK, Chief? We’ll get some food ordered, then you can tell me as much as you feel comfortable with, but I got to say, I’m counting on you to give me a handle on these senses, otherwise I’ll be out of a job!” and he chuckled ruefully. 

Just then their waitress arrived to take their order, so Jim chose steak with all the trimmings – because he was sure that this time his sense of taste would cooperate enough for him to actually enjoy it. 

Blair quietly asked for the soup and salad, not wishing to take advantage of his companion’s generosity, and not having a very big appetite anyway. 

Once they were alone again, Jim leaned forward and regarded Blair thoughtfully before saying, “Look, Chief, why don’t you start by calling me Jim? Detective Ellison is too formal, and Mr Ellison’s my Dad. If we’re going to see more of each other, it stands to reason we should be on a more comfortable footing.” 

Mouth dropping open in amazement, Blair gawped at Jim for a long moment before squeaking, “Are you sure? I I mean, I’m an ex-con! You shouldn’t really even be talking to me, much less offering that sort of familiarity!” but then he dropped his gaze and his voice as he added softly, “But I really appreciate it, er, Jim. It’s been so long since anyone’s asked me to call them by their given name as a token of friendship.” 

“Then more fool them,” responded Jim tartly, amazing himself insofar as he found he actually meant every word. 

Sitting back again, the pair sipped their drinks in companionable silence until the food arrived. 

As he had hoped, Jim enjoyed every mouthful of his meal, and was pleased to see that, although rather deliberate and shy, Blair also managed to clear his plate, looking up to smile softly at his benefactor. 

“Thanks, um, Jim. That was really good. Um, I was wondering...” he continued diffidently, “perhaps it would be a good idea to go to the park?” 

At Jim’s quizzical expression he hastened to clarify the suggestion. 

“I mean, it’s a nice day for a change, and it would give us both some privacy to talk, and the opportunity for you to test your senses. That is, if you want to...?” and he tailed off again, unsure as to whether he’d been too forward. 

He was vastly relieved when Jim responded enthusiastically with, “Great idea, Chief! Let me just get the check, and we can make a move.”  


\-------------------------  


**Cascade Central Park, later that afternoon:**  


The next few hours passed quickly and pleasantly for both men as they meandered around the park, pausing to sit when appropriate, and talking constantly. 

Blair finally opened up to talk in depth on the subject of tribal Sentinels, and was only too happy to offer Jim both his opinions and practical suggestions regarding the control and management of the gift of heightened senses, and he made it very clear to Jim that he considered it to be very much a gift, and a normal genetic variation. The last thing he wanted Jim to believe was that he was some sort of freak of nature. Thankfully his task was made easier by the fact that Jim had already gone to the trouble of reading his Master’s thesis, so the concept wasn’t entirely new to him. Add to that the fact that Blair had already been in contact with the real thing, albeit in Peru, and Jim was of a mind to accept all the help this small powerhouse of intelligence could give him. 

When it came to actually testing the range of Jim’s individual senses, for a first attempt, Blair was openly impressed. However, at least once during the exercises, Jim managed to zone, even though Blair was able to bring him out of it very quickly, instinctively employing another sense on which Jim could focus. 

Realising that the big detective was deeply unhappy at what he considered to be a setback, especially as he was also getting the occasional sensory spike by using them so much, Blair wracked his brains to think of some more practical way to help his new friend. 

Finally inspiration struck, and he excitedly suggested that Jim think of each sense as a dial on an old-style radio, with the ability to turn each up and down at will. 

Initially sceptical, Jim gave it a try, and smiled beatifically at his nervous helper when it worked a treat, and he mentally slapped himself on the back in self-congratulations, not only for doing the exercise successfully, but also for finding this small miracle of a partner; one that he fully intended to keep for his own. 

What he also kept to himself, in case the concept should spook the younger man, was that he was actually automatically using the ex-student as a base-line for grounding his senses, comfortable when he was able to see, scent, touch (occasionally) and hear the rhythmic thrum of the heartbeat. 

If he could only add taste, he would be one happy bunny, but he realised that would have to wait. 

With the young man so jittery and afraid of even the most innocent contact, he was hardly going to be able to pull the guy in to sample the succulent lips, much as he would love to. 

As for Blair, he had spent a precious few hours in seventh heaven, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to work with a pupil as gorgeous and cooperative as the big detective, but also knowing that the time was almost up; certain that Jim had a good grounding from which to work, and knowing that his job was done so he would have to return to his mundane existence. 

He knew though that he would treasure each moment, and bring them out to savour whenever he felt down, thankful that he had been granted a glimpse of a life more rewarding than the one he knew he deserved. 

Wistfully contemplating his tall companion, Blair fought against the feeling of growing attraction, knowing that he was too damaged to even contemplate following up on any kind of relationship, however superficial, and therefore completely taken unawares when Jim said regretfully, “Sorry, kiddo, but I think we’d better be getting back if you want to check in with your PO. I guess you have a curfew to stick to also?” and he sighed in resignation at Blair’s solemn nod of assent. 

“Not to worry, Chief! How about we meet up tomorrow? I’m off until Monday, so, unless you have to go in to work, how about it?” 

Bereft of words for a few seconds, Blair finally managed to stutter out, “Sh...sh…Sure, Jim! Um, yeah, I could do that!” and his face lit up like Christmas at the offer to spend a little longer with the big cop. 

More than satisfied with the young man’s response, Jim beamed and said happily, “Right then, Chief! Let’s get you back to Parker’s office, then I’ll drop you off at the hostel. I’m thinking about maybe grabbing some breakfast at around 9.00-ish?” and he slung a friendly arm around Blair’s slender shoulders, relieved when this time the young man didn’t automatically flinch at the gesture, and more than ever determined that this was his Guide, come what may.  


\--------------------------  


Later that evening, after Blair had checked in with Gerald Parker, reassuring the big Parole Officer that Detective Ellison really hadn’t threatened him in any way, Jim dropped him off at the hostel, and Blair took himself off to bed, tired but generally happy at how he had spent the day. 

That night, there were no nightmares, and his last conscious thoughts were of a tall, handsome Jim Ellison, eyes closed in bliss, smelling the roses....  


\-------------------------  


**Sunday morning, the loft:**  


As per usual, Jim rose bright and early, feeling better this morning than he had for several weeks, ever since he had ‘come on-line’ as Blair had described it. 

Smiling cheerfully, he took his normal shower, carefully dialling down his sense of touch when it threatened to spike under the heat of the spray, and congratulating himself when the action was successful. Considering it was only a few hours since Blair had come up with the idea of the dials, he was already thrilled at the measure of control he had achieved thus far, and he was certain that the young man was correct in his assertion that with practice, the action would become automatic. 

Of course, Jim had also already noticed that control was much easier anyway whilst in the other man’s company, and he fully intended to work on that aspect, having spent the evening mulling over the events of the past 24 hours, and coming to the conclusion that no one else would suit him nearly as well as partner and backup. He was pretty sure that, although the idea wasn’t covered in detail in Blair’s Master’s thesis, the role of helper – or Guide – was at least as important as that of the Sentinel himself, and therefore most likely to be also a natural genetically-enhanced capability. 

He was equally certain that Blair had neglected that aspect simply because he was far too unassuming to even consider that he had any significant part to play, despite the words of the Chopec Shaman, who had recognised his ability and dubbed him ‘The White Shaman’. It was obvious to Jim that Blair had chosen to ignore the statement, simply because he was so lacking in self-esteem that it wouldn’t have made any impact on him, and Jim vowed to do something about that. 

Of course, the downside to this last day or so of revelations was that tomorrow he was going to have to explain everything to his captain, and he sure wasn’t looking forward to that little discussion. He could already imagine the scepticism and downright belligerence on Simon’s face, and that was going to be magnified a hundredfold once he introduced the topic of Sandburg’s part in all this. 

For the time being, however, he was just going to enjoy the day in the company of the beautiful young man, and let the future take care if itself.   


\-----------------------------  


When Jim turned into the shabby street where Blair’s hostel stood, he wasn’t surprised to see Blair already waiting on the sidewalk. He had actually been practicing tracking the young man from some distance away, and he was both pleased with the success of his attempts, and saddened to hear Blair’s muttering as he argued with himself, noting also that the young man’s heart rate was elevated, and that he was obviously pacing up and down in nervous anticipation. 

“Calm down, Sandburg! He’ll be here! Oh, please let him be here! But why would he? What more would he want from you? He’ll come because he’s a good man, and he promised....” 

The near-silent rant came to an abrupt halt as Blair spotted Jim’s truck approaching, and Jim was gratified to see the beaming smile of welcome which lit up the lovely face. 

As he pulled up alongside and climbed out, moving round to open the passenger door for his new friend because he knew for certain that Blair wouldn’t make a move uninvited, he said, “Hey, Chief! Did you think I wouldn’t come?” and he grinned knowingly at the flustered younger man, who realised he’d been caught out. 

“Um, so, you could hear me, huh?” he murmured, blushing a little in embarrassment. Then, immediately shifting the focus onto his amazing companion, as was his wont, he continued enthusiastically, “That’s fantastic, Jim! And just think how much better your range and acquisition will be with practice!” 

Recognising the ploy for what it was, Jim let it go for now, knowing that it was going to take a deal of work on his part to alter Blair’s opinion of his own self-worth. 

“OK, Chief, where would you like to go today? The park again, or did you have somewhere else in mind? At least the weather’s still good, so we can stay outdoors.” 

Actually, he would have loved to drive out of the city for a day’s hiking in the National Forest with just the two of them, but he knew well and good that it was expecting too much of his fragile new friend, despite the progress they had made yesterday. It was simply too soon for the nervous young man to trust himself to be alone with anyone big enough to subdue him, should he have made a serious error of judgement as to Jim’s true intentions toward him. After all, Jim certainly had no doubts about his own attraction to Blair, and although on the basis of evidence provided by his senses he was pretty sure that the attraction was mutual, yet he fully intended to take it as slowly as necessary because there was no way he wanted to scare Sandburg away simply because he couldn’t control his physical responses. 

In the end, they decided to go to the waterfront, which pleased Jim immensely. It had been one of his favourite areas in which to hang out ‘pre-senses’, but had become almost unendurable when the myriad sounds and smells had threatened to overwhelm him. Now, however, with Blair by his side, and the minor miracle of the dials, he could once again enjoy the sea air and lively environment without being sent to his knees by a sudden overpowering waft of rotten fish or some such. 

The hours passed quickly and pleasantly as they followed much the same pattern as the previous day, testing Jim’s range for each sense, and refining Jim’s control by practicing using the additional input from at least one other source in order to prevent the possibility of zoning from getting lost in just one sense to the exclusion of everything else. 

Needless to say, there were again one or two instances when Jim failed to apply the technique correctly, but the resulting zones were easily dispelled at a touch or word from Blair, and this time Jim was far more accepting of his limitations. After all, as Blair told him repeatedly, he was truly gifted (in Blair’s eyes anyway) but he wasn’t Superman, and he shouldn’t be disappointed if he wasn’t universally successful or indeed, omnipotent. It was just as if he had taken up a new sport, and needed to practice to attain lasting success. 

However, not every moment was taken up with sentinel matters, as Jim took it upon himself to draw out his small companion as much as he could. He was rewarded by the shy young man coming out of his shell little by little to reveal tantalising glimpses of his past, mentioning his peripatetic childhood travelling the world with his hippy Mom, Naomi. 

He described how he had become fascinated by anthropology, and, encouraged by his companion’s unfeigned interest, related a few anecdotes for Jim’s amusement. 

He did not, however, touch on his recent past because he was certain Jim didn’t need to hear any more about his troubles, and besides, he was far too ashamed of his own role in the systematic abuse he had suffered whilst in prison, the fact that he was the victim notwithstanding. 

Eventually, however, like all good things, their hours together came to an end as Blair had to return to the hostel before curfew. 

Pulling up outside the door, Jim was in no hurry to push his passenger out, and he turned to study the young man thoughtfully while he decided on the best way to broach the subject of how he wanted their relationship to develop. 

Unaware of Jim’s internal conflict, Blair shook himself out of his own introspection as he prepared to take his leave. For Blair, it had been a wonderful and totally unexpected treat to have been able to spend another day in Jim’s company, indulging in the fantasy that he was still a practising anthropology student, and revelling in the opportunity to work with the Sentinel of his dreams. 

However, it was also a bittersweet experience, in that he was sure that the happy interlude was now well and truly over. Jim had made such remarkable progress in such a short time that he was certain that, with a little coaching, a suitable police partner could be found to help him in a return to full active duty. 

Turning to thank Jim sincerely for his time and trouble, Blair was shocked to the core when Jim beat him to it saying, “Look, Chief, I know we haven’t really touched on it, but I’d like to know if you’re OK with continuing to work with me. I know you’ve got your own life to live, and set commitments for the present, but I don’t think I can – or even want – to do this Sentinel thing without you. 

“You’ve said yourself that tribal Sentinels always had a Guide to watch their backs, and it seems to me that those Guides were special too, since they seem to be Shamans, just like you, Chief. I’m convinced that Guides are chosen for their own abilities, and I’m even more convinced that there’s one specific Guide to each Sentinel, and as far as I can figure it, you’re it for me, kiddo.” 

As he spoke, he watched the changing emotions chasing across Blair’s expressive features, ranging from surprise, shock, joy, doubt and denial in turn; with many variations in between, ending with a look of such hopeless longing it almost broke Jim’s heart. 

Worried at the young man’s continuing silence, since the request had obviously rendered him speechless, Jim prompted him, saying, “Hey, kiddo, you still with me? Look, I don’t expect you to say yes or no right away, as long as you can give me your word you’ll think on it, OK? 

“One thing I can promise you, little one, is that I meant every word. All I’m asking is the chance to prove it to you, OK?” and he was thrilled beyond measure when Blair, pale-faced but resolute, finally nodded in assent. 

Although torn between an instinctive need for self-preservation and the desperate desire to believe in Jim’s veracity, Blair was prepared to place himself and his trust in the Sentinel’s hands even though Jim was well aware of what the decision was costing the younger man. 

In awe of the young man’s courage, and determined not to give him any reason to regret his decision, Jim slowly reached across the bench seat and carefully grasped Blair’s hand, squeezing gently but unthreateningly as he met the Sandburg’s anxious look with a sincere one of his own. 

“Thank you, Chief. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re willing to give us a chance. I know it’s a huge leap of faith for you to place your trust in me, and I swear I’ll do everything I can to make sure that you never regret your decision.” 

For long moments, Blair held his gaze, then he let his lids close as he gathered every last bit of his remaining nerve. Opening his eyes, he dropped his gaze to their clasped hands for a moment, his face taking on a faintly bemused expression, such that Jim hoped that he too could feel the slight but warm current passing between them. 

Raising his eyes to meet Jim’s again he answered, “Thank you, Jim for placing _your_ trust in someone like me. I believe that you mean what you say, and that you will do your best by me, and I thank you for that. 

“But what will your captain say when you tell him about me – what I am? It won’t be easy for you, and I’m scared that you’ll find that I’m not worth the trouble. I don’t think I could take any more pain right now....” 

“As to Simon, kiddo, he’ll either have to accept the situation, or my resignation! And you are worth the trouble to me, Chief. In less than 48 hours you’ve literally saved my sanity, so how could I not be grateful for that? 

“Anyhow, I’ve no intention of pushing you any further than you want to go, babe, so for now, I’ll leave you to get a good night’s sleep. 

“But I’d like it if you could come to the PD with me tomorrow when you finish your shift at Gillespie’s. I realise it won’t be a walk in the park for you to meet Simon, but I’m thinking the sooner we get it over with the better, then we’ll have a better idea as to where to go from there. OK with you so far?” 

Realising that he might well be pushing the young man too far too fast after all, whatever his assertions, he was impressed once again when Blair swallowed audibly before whispering, “OK, Jim. I understand, and I’ll come with you, as long as you’ll stay with me?” he finished on a pleading note. 

When Jim nodded in unequivocal confirmation, he took a deep breath, and drawing on every bit of resolve of which he was capable he continued, albeit in a somewhat shaky voice, “All right then. My shift finishes at 3.30 pm tomorrow, because I start early on Mondays. Could you collect me from the office? I could take a change of clothes with me....” 

He was rewarded by the biggest grin he had yet seen on Jim’s face as the older man spoke with feeling. 

“You got it, babe! And thank you! Thank you for your courage, and thank you for your belief in me. I’ll see you at 3.30 outside Gillespie’s, OK? 

“You take care now, and try to get a decent night’s rest,” and he reluctantly released the smaller hand he’d been squeezing to let his passenger escape, because he knew only too well that the urge to pull the young man into his arms was growing by the second. 

Offering Jim a much more natural smile, Blair visibly relaxed as he opened the car door and slid to the ground. 

Leaning back in for a moment he said softly, “Goodnight, Jim, and thank you for today. It’s been great. And see you tomorrow...” and he closed the door gently before turning and running up the steps to the hostel’s main entrance, only to turn back again to wave to Jim who returned the gesture, waiting until the young man was safely inside the building before finally driving off.  


\-------------------------------  


**Monday morning, MCU bullpen:**  


Monday morning dawned wet and overcast; weather which undoubtedly matched Jim Ellison’s mood. 

True, he was still more than upbeat about the progress he had made both with his senses and with the relationship with his – yes, _his_ Guide – but no one in their right mind would look forward to the upcoming meeting with his boss with anything less than foreboding. He knew Simon Banks well enough to appreciate the man’s support over the past few weeks while Jim’s health and sanity had deteriorated daily, and was aware that many a captain would have cut his losses much sooner and put the detective on permanent sick leave prior to dismissal on the grounds of ill-health. 

However, even Banks had his limitations, and responsibility for a whole department to boot, so it was inevitable that the man had reached his limit for tolerance. It wasn’t that Jim thought that ordinarily Simon wouldn’t be grateful for an explanation for Jim’s odd behaviour, or, indeed, happy to learn of a way to control it. It was simply that the whole concept would sound so improbable to the pragmatic captain, that an explosion of disbelief and derision seemed inevitable. 

Nevertheless, as Jim sat at his desk awaiting Banks’ arrival, he knew that, whether or not Simon accepted his explanation, he wasn’t prepared to compromise on his choice of Guide.   


\--------------------------  


Two hours later, Jim was back at his desk, pretty much reeling from the aftermath of a confrontation which had been every bit as explosive as he had envisaged. 

Dials notwithstanding, Jim’s head throbbed with a stress headache of monster proportions, and it was only by drawing on the sense-memory of Blair’s voice and soothing heartbeat that he could bring it down to a bearable level. Sighing in relief as the pain began to subside somewhat, Jim smiled ruefully to himself as he replayed the conversation in his mind. 

When Banks had breezed into the office, Jim had immediately risen to his feet to request a meeting, which was granted with gratifying alacrity. 

Grinning widely in eager anticipation at Jim’s opening announcement that he had discovered what his problem was, and, better yet, that he had found a remedy, Simon’s expression had hardened visibly as the explanation progressed even though he struggled valiantly to hold his tongue. That lasted right up until Jim reached the part about Sandburg’s role in his ‘cure’, then Banks erupted. 

“You have GOT to be kidding me, Ellison! Even if I bought into this ‘heightened senses’ bullshit, you can’t possibly expect me to OK your using some untrained kid – an ex-con to boot – to be your backup? Are you completely out of your mind? 

“Look,” he continued, trying gamely to get himself under some control. “Seeing as you know what you need in a partner to keep you grounded, why can’t we get one of your fellow detectives to help out? Perhaps H or Rafe? Why does it have to be some weird student type?” 

Sighing despondently, Jim had reiterated his claim that a Guide had to be compatible with his or her Sentinel, and that Blair was it as far as he was concerned. 

It was obvious that Banks wasn’t impressed by his argument, so he finally had to resort to his threat of tendering his resignation, which did give the captain pause for thought. 

Sighing deeply in his turn, because he truly didn’t want to lose his best detective and, indeed, friend without good cause, Simon agreed to withhold his decision until after meeting with Sandburg, although deep down he somehow didn’t expect to be reassured in any way. 

Thanking Simon for listening, Jim had retreated to his desk to regain some sort of composure before tackling more of the mountain of paperwork he was still restricted to working on, at least until such time as he got clearance to return to the field, if that was ever likely to happen now.  


\------------------------------  


Meanwhile, Blair was going through his own version of trauma, except in this case it was brought on by his internal emotional conflict. 

Although wildly excited and thrilled at Jim’s offer the previous evening of the chance to work with him, once he had had time to really consider what such a role would entail, all Blair’s insecurities and inner demons had come out to play, and he had spent another sleepless night tossing and turning as he fought for some measure of equilibrium. 

Certainly he was still desperately grateful for the opportunity to continue working with a true Sentinel, and he was prepared to do everything he could to enable the man to operate to his full capacity, unable to contemplate ignoring Jim’s needs when he had it within him to offer help and support. Indeed, if it had occurred to him to think about it in terms of Shaman / Guide qualities as they applied to himself, he would have already known that no true Guide worth their salt could stand by and watch a Sentinel suffer in any way. 

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if he was in the best position to act upon that offer, and he dreaded the upcoming meeting with Jim’s boss. After all, he also had his own problems, not the least of which was that he was pretty much tied to a strict regime for as long as his probation lasted, and he simply could not risk doing anything that would end up with a return to prison. 

Shuddering at the notion, he thought disconsolately that even if Bo Mason were still there, he would have moved on long ago to a new piece of tail, and wouldn’t want to offer protection to his previous bitch. And without that protection, Blair would either have to find himself someone similar, or, more likely, be gang-raped, maybe even killed. 

And could he really believe that Jim wouldn’t harm him either? 

He was well aware of the big man’s attraction to him, even if he wanted to deny it. 

And he had already recognised his own wistful longing to be held in those powerful arms, but in loving protection instead of the cruel pawing preceding rape and pain. 

Yes, he trusted Jim, insofar as he believed the man would never knowingly hurt Blair, but how about in unforeseen circumstances? What if Jim the Sentinel should ever revert to the primal instincts of his ancestors? Would he hurt Blair unwittingly when under threat? 

Blair simply didn’t know, and the uncertainty frightened him to his core. But on the other hand, he was so lonely, so needy for real companionship, and, above all, so needing to be wanted. 

With the inner debate shelved but not resolved, he stumbled out of bed in the early morning light, and prepared to leave for work, taking a change of clothes with him as promised, but trying very hard not to think about the upcoming meeting later in the day.  


\-------------------------  


**That Afternoon:**  


When Jim pulled up outside Gillespie and Associates’ building that afternoon on the dot of 3.30 pm, he already knew that Blair was waiting for him, and that the ex grad student was more than a little wilted at the edges. Despite the valiant attempt at a warm welcoming smile, the dark smudges beneath the troubled blue eyes spoke of another restless night, while sentinel sight easily detected the minute tremors of tension that rattled the slender body. In fact, Blair looked like he’d been through the wringer already, and Jim really hoped that his young friend hadn’t been given any grief whilst at work. 

Truthfully, Blair had been somewhat stressed at the office, but only because of the pressure unwittingly placed upon him by his well-meaning employers, who were genuinely concerned to witness his apparent distraction and increased nervousness. Although they had all backed off when they realised that they weren’t helping any, and that he needed to maintain a little personal space despite his grateful thanks for their support, Megan in particular persisted in watching his every move, with a concerned expression on her attractive face, such that he thought he might just scream under the sympathetic scrutiny. 

The problem was, although he had reassured them that Detective Ellison had apologised, and had, in fact been more than amiable and supportive, he couldn’t in all honesty tell them the true reason for his and Jim’s mutual attraction, or why they had spent the best part of the weekend together. The Sentinel’s secrets weren’t his to tell, even if the partnership was to work out satisfactorily, because Blair wasn’t at all sure that even the more open-minded members of a rational and cynical so-called modern society were ready or willing to accept a phenomenon as arcane as a Sentinel and Guide pair into their midst. 

Not wishing to burden Jim with his worries, however, he forced himself to relax as much as he could, because it was blatantly obvious that Jim was concerned for him, and he didn’t want to add to Jim’s own level of discomfort. 

Once Blair was settled in the truck, Jim offered a rather wry smile before saying, “Hey, Chief, you’re looking a bit frazzled. You sure you’re OK to go ahead with this meeting? I mean, I know it’s important to me, but not so much that it causes you so much distress, you know? Have your employers been giving you grief?” 

Shaking his head in denial, and pasting a genuine, if weary smile on his face, Blair replied, “No, they’ve been pretty good really. I mean, they could tell I was distracted, and wanted to help, but they didn’t force me once I explained I didn’t want to talk about it, although that made me feel bad. They really do seem to care, you know? And it’s been a while since anyone did that for me.” 

Reaching over to give the young man’s knee a quick pat before he pulled away from the kerb Jim said, “It’s good that they care so much about you, Chief. It’ll certainly help if they can back you up if this partnership takes off – you know, provide a bit of flexibility, maybe. But don’t worry about that until we get this interview over with, OK? 

“You never know,” he added ruefully. “I could yet end up handing in my badge, because I’m not working with anyone but you, Chief. Ever!” but he grinned as he finished, not wanting Blair to take on any more stress on his behalf than he apparently already had. 

Returning the smile, big blue eyes telegraphing his gratitude for Jim’s supportive words of comfort and reassurance, Blair replied softly, “Thanks, Jim. Whatever happens, I want to help. I just need you to understand that I may screw up from time to time, you know? I mean, it’s all new to me too, even if it was my study topic of choice. I don’t think anyone knows how the whole sentinel deal will work in modern society.” 

However, his face fell again as he continued sadly, averting his gaze to stare out of the passenger window. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, man. You’re such a gift.” 

“Only because of you, Chief!” responded Jim firmly. 

“Now, here we are,” he added as they approached the PD underground parking garage. 

“Whatever happens, kiddo, I’ll be with you all the way!”  


\---------------------------  


The short trip up from the parking garage to the Major Crimes bullpen on the sixth floor was enough to shake up Blair’s already jangling nerves to an alarming degree. Having only been in a police station when he was arrested, he had no warm and fuzzy memories of his treatment at any stage before he was tried and convicted. Virtually hiding behind Jim’s broad back in the elevator, his over-active imagination convinced him that he could feel every other passenger’s eyes burning into him in condemnation and disgust, and, judging by Jim’s frowning gaze and occasional threatening growl, there had been more than a few adverse comments thrown in their direction. 

Finally reaching the bullpen, they crossed the room under the inquisitive gaze of all present, and Jim barely had time to settle Blair at his desk before a voice bellowed forth from Simon’s office making the young man nearly jump out of his skin. 

“Ellison, my office now – and bring _him_ with you!” 

The ensuing meeting was every bit as fraught as the previous one, except that this time it ended on a slightly more positive note.  


\--------------------------  


Once Jim and Blair were seated in front of Simon’s desk, Blair’s nervous tension ratcheted up to almost panic proportions when Banks turned his ferocious glare onto the young man. As Jim threw a supportive arm around his shaking friend’s shoulders, he glared right back at his captain, who had the decency to back off a bit until Sandburg got himself under some sort of control. 

Meekly apologising for his reaction, Blair was convinced he had blown it for Jim even before he had uttered a single word. 

However, despite his fearsome reputation, Simon wasn’t a cruel man, and personal opinions notwithstanding, he was at least prepared to hear what the boy had to say. 

Settling back in his chair, he regarded the youngster speculatively for a few minutes while Blair got his breathing under control, using the opportunity to check out his physical appearance. He was actually quite surprised at his own positive reaction to the young man, who wasn’t in the least what he had been expecting. Sure, he had seen the mug shot in Sandburg’s thin ‘jacket’, but it hadn’t prepared him for the man’s attractiveness in the flesh. 

Despite his pallor and tension, Sandburg was a pleasure to behold, with his unruly curls and big blue eyes, and although he looked right now to be a bundle of insecurities, it was a compact and neatly dressed bundle, even if the clean shirt and well-worn jeans had seen better days. Sure, he looked tiny in comparison to Simon’s own towering 6’4” frame, but he didn’t look weak or effeminate for all his prettiness. 

Finally, after taking a couple more deep breaths to centre himself, Blair met Banks’ quizzical gaze, and indicated that he was OK to continue. 

Realising that it was up to him to convince the big captain of his veracity and knowledge on the subject of Sentinels, at Simon’s nod of invitation he took another deep breath, and, unconsciously grasping a handful of Jim’s sweater sleeve for comfort, he began. 

Pausing only to answer Simon’s occasional questions, or requests to clarify specific points, he proceeded to give what was probably the most important lecture of his young life. Keeping everything informative but as succinct as possible, he quickly ran through his own educational background in order to establish his claim to being possibly the only known expert presently specialising in Sentinels and Sentinel studies, and therefore the best chance for Jim to achieve his true potential in the modern environment. 

He freely admitted that his Master’s thesis was concerned with tribal Sentinels, and that the only living examples he had personally come into contact with had been from isolated indigenous groups such as the Chopec, but he explained, with a pained expression, that he had intended to continue his doctoral programme with a study of Sentinels in a modern, industrialised environment, should he have been lucky enough to find such a one who would agree to be his study subject. 

Needless to say, he accepted that it wasn’t going to happen now, and even if he hadn’t gotten himself thrown out of Rainier, he could never write about Jim however much he would have wanted to, because the risk of his abilities being exploited by criminals ‘in the know’ was simply too great, as he could never guarantee Jim’s total anonymity. 

Suitably impressed by the young man’s integrity thus far, Simon continued by requesting a full explanation of exactly what made Sentinels ‘tick’, and what they needed in order to function, because even though he had a fair grasp by now of how useful Jim could be to the department, Banks had to know if it was even workable. 

With Jim’s full cooperation, Blair proceeded to demonstrate just how good Jim’s enhanced senses were by leading him through some previously agreed tests, although between themselves they had already decided to keep his exact range under wraps for now. 

He outlined all the benefits the department would enjoy by employing Jim’s talents to the extent of claiming that Jim could legitimately be described as a walking ‘organic crime lab’, which made Jim laugh out loud in delight, and even brought a reluctant smirk to Simon’s face as the enthusiastic young man visibly warmed to his subject. 

Nevertheless, for Jim’s sake Blair refused to down-play the potential problems that could affect a working Sentinel, describing sensory spikes, zones and possible allergic reactions which only a knowledgeable partner and Guide might be fully aware of, and be in the position to do something about. 

At this point however his own self-doubt kicked back in again at the return of Simon’s overt scepticism, so his voice faltered and the confident flow of words trickled to a halt as the captain’s eyes bored into him, in Blair’s imagination looking deep into his very soul and seeing all the insecurities therein laid bare. 

Immediately picking up on his Guide’s discomfort and knowing the cause, Jim jumped straight to Blair’s defence, backing up his partner’s words with his own deeply felt beliefs, which were all concerned with the importance of the Guide, knowing full well that Blair would never think to promote himself in any way. 

Deliberately overriding his Guide’s faltering speech even as he patted Sandburg’s shoulder in mute apology, he forced himself to ignore Blair’s red-faced embarrassment and down-turned gaze as he expounded on what he believed to be the truth about a Shaman Guide’s specific capabilities, and how he was certain that there was only one true Guide for each Sentinel. Fixing his boss with an intent and earnest gaze, he willed the man to agree with him. 

After long moments, during which Blair fought hard to control the incipient tears which threatened to accompany his conviction that he had failed in his quest to help his Sentinel; because the gods only knew he didn’t want to appear to the big captain as a spineless wuss and total loser on top of everything else; Simon finally sat back in his seat with a deep sigh and an expression of resignation settling across his frowning features. 

“OK Jim, Mr Sandburg. You’ve given me plenty to think about, and you probably both realise that I can’t and won’t commit myself either way today. But I _will_ consider your arguments, gentlemen. 

“Nevertheless, there’s an important matter I need to discuss with you in private, Detective Ellison, so if you wouldn’t mind, Mr Sandburg?” and he indicated to Blair that he should make himself scarce with a raised eyebrow and brisk nod towards the door. 

However, just before Jim could utter any complaint, or Blair descend into panic at the thought of being left alone in the bullpen, Simon’s secretary Rhonda, gentle and caring person that she was, intuitively realised that a kind face and offer of comfort was in order, and appeared at Simon’s door to escort Blair to her inner sanctum with soft words and a welcoming smile. 

As Blair turned to follow her, bolstered by an encouraging grin and a friendly pat on his shoulder from Jim, Rhonda was taken aback to receive a completely unexpected and genuine smile of relief and gratitude from Ellison which caused her face to crinkle for a fleeting moment in amazement and disbelief. 

Once Blair was settled comfortably and reasonably happily in Rhonda’s small side office, Simon fixed his detective with a stern gaze as he pulled a thin folder out of his desk drawer, laying it down flat before tapping it with his index finger. 

“OK, Jim, now here’s the thing,” he began, knowing that the next part of the discussion was going to be difficult for them both. 

“Say I do believe all this sentinel stuff; and, I’ve got to admit, I was way more impressed with the kid than I ever thought I would be; we still have one really big problem here,” and he tapped the file again. 

“There’s no way I could swing any sort of ride-along pass for Sandburg as long as he’s on file as a convicted criminal, whatever the nature of the ‘crime’. Add to that the fact that he’s still on probation, and we don’t stand a chance! The Chief and the Commissioner simply won’t buy it. 

“So, what do we do? Any suggestions?” 

Having already thought deeply about that very same dilemma, Jim was able to control his instinctive angry response and replied very much more reasonably than Simon might have expected. 

“I get what you’re saying, sir, and I know it’s a real problem for us, but I have given it some serious consideration even though I admit I haven’t really run it past Blair yet because I didn’t want to add to his existing stress levels unnecessarily. 

“The thing is, Simon, that although you’ve heard it all before - heck, we all have, more times than we care to count – I truly believe that Blair was set up,” and he hurried on even as Simon opened his mouth to interrupt, disbelief written large on his face. 

Recounting the incident at the museum, and what he had learned from Blair himself and the background check he had already done, he projected every bit of conviction of which he was capable into convincing the captain of his sincerity. 

Probably against his better judgement, instead of shooting Jim down in flames at the very idea, Simon found himself listening instead, wanting to hear more of what his detective - and friend, godammit – had in mind, because it sure as heck would be entertaining even if it was impractical. 

Realising he had captured his boss’ attention, Jim wasted no time in filling him in on his plan, which was to send Blair in to Rainier to confront Buckner face-to-face on some pretext, but wearing a wire so that the exchange would be recorded word-for-word. If Sandburg could procure an admission of guilt on tape, Jim was sure that Blair’s employers at Gillespie’s would be only too pleased to represent him in a re-trial if necessary, and this time he would surely be cleared, and his conviction overturned. 

Once truly free, it was Jim’s sincere hope that Blair could return to Rainier to take up his studies once again, but he was sure to the depths of his very soul that the young man would want to remain with him as his partner and backup. 

What he didn’t mention of course, was that it was his dearest wish that he would then be able to convince Blair to move in with him, to eventually become his partner in all ways. 

Having exhausted his argument for now, Jim sat back to await Banks’ deliberation and response. 

After keeping Jim in suspense for way longer than the big man was comfortable with, Simon finally delivered his decision. 

“OK, Jim. God help me, and I think I probably need my head examined, but say I can get this set up. When do you want to send the kid in? Because it won’t be for a couple of days at least. You’ll have to remain on desk duty, but after that, well, it’ll depend on the outcome. 

“But first off, you’ve got to fill your partner in on the idea, because if he can’t carry it off, we’re dead in the water. So what I want you to do is take him home, or wherever. Talk to him, and if he’s OK with the plan, let me know tomorrow, and I’ll do my best to set things up. 

“It’s as good as I can offer you right now, so go on, get out of here before I change my mind, and report back to me first thing,” and he waved Jim away impatiently, indicating that the discussion was at an end, and he didn’t want to hear any more.  


\-----------------------  


As Jim went next door to collect his Guide, Blair quickly got to his feet, but not before offering Rhonda a word of sincere thanks and a sweet smile, such that she fell in love with him even more than when she first set eyes on him. 

Receiving another smile of relief and gratitude from Ellison, she really did begin to believe in miracles. Who would have thought that after just a few days in the company of that gentle soul that Jim ‘Hardass’ Ellison could thaw out so fast? 

Nodding in rather bemused acknowledgement, she watched their departing backs for a few moments before shaking herself out of her temporary reverie, and returned to her work.  


\-------------------------  


Knowing that Blair didn’t have too long before he had to check in with the Parole Officer, Jim suggested that they stop en route at the same quiet bar they had used previously so he could fill Blair in properly on what had passed between him and Banks. Agreeing rather nervously, but with noticeable resolve, Blair allowed himself to be seated in a quiet booth once again while Jim ordered coffee for them both. 

Once assured of their privacy, Jim began by confirming what Simon had said as regards the impossibility of granting a ride-along at present, but before Blair could get too despondent, he quickly gripped the other man’s hand as he fixed Blair with a direct and honest gaze. 

“Wait up, Chief, there’s more! If you really are sure that you want to work with me, we’ll have to do something about your conviction. 

“Now, I know you’re afraid, kiddo, and who wouldn’t be? But if you’re game, we could fix this. Will you let me explain, or is it totally inconceivable for you? Because if so, little one, I won’t blame you, I promise. 

“Yes, I’ll be disappointed, and not just for my own sake, but because I think we can do this, and you deserve to get your life back – preferably to spend with me! 

“What do you say?” and he poured as much genuine compassion and encouragement as he was capable of into his quiet but impassioned words. 

For long moments Blair was simply incapable of speech as his thoughts and emotions veered wildly between hope and despair. 

True, he was instantly excited at the suggestion that he could get his conviction quashed, but within seconds his fears and perceived inadequacies raised their ugly heads and he despaired of being able to live up to Jim’s expectations, so sure was he that he could do nothing but disappoint. 

However, letting the Sentinel down without even attempting to put things right was equally inconceivable, so, turning his desperate gaze to meet Jim’s calm but hopeful one, he finally stammered out, “O O OK! OK, I’ll try. But what is it I have to do? I I mean, it won’t make things worse for me if it goes wrong will it? Please Jim, I can’t go back inside, I can’t!” 

Smiling softly at his anxious Guide, Jim said “No, baby. It won’t make things worse for you. If nothing comes of it, we’ll just chalk it up to experience and try something else. I’m so proud of you, you know, Chief.” 

At Blair’s puzzled look, he continued, “Whatever you think about yourself, I believe you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.” 

This time, Blair’s expression was one of total disbelief, so Jim said, “It’s true. There you are, the victim of betrayal, and some of the most unbelievably vicious assaults one person could inflict on another, and yet you come out and agree to try what I’m about to suggest without even knowing what it entails! 

“That’s real courage, kiddo, when you’re scared shitless, but you still won’t stay down!” 

Swallowing hard, Blair couldn’t help the few tears that slid down his face at the raw conviction in Jim’s voice, and it took a few minutes before he got himself back under control enough to respond. Jim was in no hurry, though, and was prepared to give his friend as much time as he needed to get himself together. 

“Thanks, Jim. That’s good of you to say. OK, tell me what I need to do.” 

And Jim did.  


\------------------------------  


**Thursday afternoon:**  


Just after lunch hour, Blair crossed Rainier University’s campus on his way to Hargrove Hall and Professor Hal Buckner’s office. Although his insides felt as if they were churning with anxiety, he appeared outwardly calm, but only because he was concentrating so hard on his mantra, _‘I am calm. I am relaxed’,_ which he had been repeating continuously ever since he set foot on University soil. 

To be honest, he was anticipating being intercepted at any moment, because, although not officially debarred from Rainier, he was certain that he would be spotted and recognised, fingers pointing in ridicule or disgust at his bare-faced insolence. 

Then again, he was keeping his head down, hoping that perhaps his now short hair and more conventional clothing might suffice as an adequate disguise. 

Jogging up the steps to the main entrance, he took a deep, fortifying breath before entering and making his way unerringly to his old mentor’s office, both dreading the coming confrontation and nervously hopeful that it would lead to a successful outcome to their scheming. 

As he ran through the plan yet again, he was uncomfortably aware of the wire taped to his chest beneath tee and sweater, having to forcibly restrain himself from scratching at the annoying itch arising from the tape’s contact with his skin, and wishing he could dial down his sense of touch as easily as could his Sentinel. He was equally sure he was about to lose a fair bit of chest hair, and painfully at that, when the thing was eventually removed. 

Although he was well aware that Jim would be listening in to his every word from a safe distance, obviously the wire was required to record the upcoming conversation in the hope that Blair would be successful in drawing a confession out of Buckner. 

Coming to a halt outside Buckner’s door, Blair whispered quietly for both Jim’s information and for the officers listening in from where their vehicle was parked in the nearby lot, “I’m here! Going in.....!”  


\--------------------------  


**Previously:**  


The past couple of days had been exhausting as well as stimulating for Blair as he had juggled his work hours with spending as much time a possible with Jim at the PD, working out the details of their plan. He was aware that his employers at Gillespie’s must have had their suspicions that he was up to something, but he was enormously grateful that they didn’t seem to believe that he was involved in anything untoward, and they refrained from calling him on it. 

True, he felt guilty at willingly taking part in what he considered to be a somewhat clandestine operation, but he sincerely hoped that what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them should the whole thing go pear-shaped. 

With Simon Banks’ blessing, Jim and Blair had concocted their plan which they wanted to put into action sooner rather than later. The scheme was simple enough in theory. Blair was to contact Buckner, arranging a meeting on the pretext that he had a personal matter he wanted to discuss, and, once in the office, he was to try and steer the conversation around to the smuggling incident in the hope of eliciting an admission of guilt which would be recorded via the wire secreted on his person. 

The only hard part lay in making the request convincing enough for Buckner to fall for it. 

In fact, although he was only planning on offering a tantalising hint as to the nature of the subject he wanted to discuss in order to whet the other’s appetite, once the meeting was set up, Blair was going to demand the return of his vase on the grounds that it was of great personal value to him. If Buckner would agree to get it back from the museum and give it to Blair, Blair in his turn would promise not to pursue his attempt to clear his own name by accusing his old professor of setting him up. 

Of course, it would be up to Blair to direct the conversation towards the smuggling issue, but although he was understandably anxious about his chances of success, he was determined to do his best both for his sake, and ultimately, for Jim’s.  


\--------------------------  


**Present:**  


Taking another deep breath, Blair raised his hand to knock. At Buckner’s call of “Enter!” he pushed open the door to be immediately stricken by conflicting feelings of both past familiarity and present alienation as Blair recognised that he was no longer welcome in his old mentor’s personal space. 

Stopping just inside the door, Blair bit his lip in utterly unfeigned anxiety as his gaze flicked upward to meet Buckner’s wolfish grin. 

“Blair, dear boy! How are you?” he began as he beckoned to his ex-student to approach. 

“We’ve been very worried about you, you know,” he continued, voice dripping with insincere concern even though Blair was instantly aware of the underlying tension in his tone. 

“I guess I could be worse,” Blair replied sardonically. “But not by much! It’s not easy to have your whole life destroyed so completely and expect to remain unmoved.” 

Tutting in faux sympathy, Buckner responded, “I’m sure, dear boy! I’m sure! 

“But I’m equally certain you didn’t come here just to pour out your troubles into my shell-like ear, so just what is it I can do for you?” he finished, with a distinct note of unease now colouring his words. 

“Well, it’s just that I went to the Natural History Museum a few days ago,” Blair began in a conversational tone, noting that Buckner’s expression had taken on a distinctly uncomfortable and even guilty cast as he continued. 

“I saw my vase there. The one the Chopec Shaman gave me. It meant a lot to me, Hal, and I want it back!” 

Frowning at the unexpected forcefulness of his formerly easy-going ex-student’s demand, Buckner retaliated with growing anger. 

“I’m not sure I can do that, Blair! It was confiscated, after all, and I simply offered to take charge of it once the trial was done. Why should I return it to you? It should rightfully belong to Rainier anyway!” 

“Because if you don’t,” Blair growled threateningly despite his insides quaking with nerves, “I’m going to push to clear my name and get the blame put where it belongs – and we both know where that is, don’t we, _Hal?”_ and he fixed the older man with a hard stare, which did he but know it, held all the power of a Shaman out for justice. 

Buckner certainly recognised it for what it was anyway, and began to bluster. 

“You can’t do that! How could you? No matter how brilliant you may be, you’re just a penniless nobody! Who’s going to help _you?”_

“I have friends now – friends who care about me and care about justice!” Blair replied quietly but firmly. 

“Give me what I want, or I swear I’ll come after you – you and Tim both!” 

Just then the door flew open to reveal the man in question, who frowned in consternation at Blair before addressing Buckner. 

“What’s he doing here? I thought you said he’d been well and truly broken!” 

“Well, obviously I was wrong!” snapped the professor. “But it doesn’t change anything! For all his talk, he can’t prove we had anything to do with it, and it’s still his word against ours!” 

Turning his vindictive glare back to Blair he snarled, “There’s no way you could have seen me put the figurine in your precious vase, because Tim kept you completely distracted! You’re such a trusting fool, Blair! So clever, but so naive! 

“But I’m sure prison will have knocked that out of you, hey?” he added nastily. 

“Shut up, Hal!” hissed Tim. “He doesn’t need to know anything! Like you said, he can’t prove anything, and all you’re doing is confirming his suspicions!” 

“Well, if he can’t do anything about it, why shouldn’t I tell him everything – explain exactly _why_ I did it?” and he turned his venomous and gloating glare back to Blair, who was both frightened by the man’s fury and desperate to hear what he had to say. 

“You want to know _why,_ Blair? Well, I’ll tell you! You have absolutely no idea how much I’ve always hated you! You arrive on campus, barely sixteen years old and already beautiful – already attracting people to you in droves because of your personality and intelligence. A veritable _wunderkind!_

“What was it now? Ah yes, Bachelor’s at 18, and Master’s at barely 20! Everyone’s darling! 

“But you know what? I couldn’t _stand_ it! How _dare_ you outshine me after all the years I’ve put into this place! How _dare_ you outstrip your peers by such a distance that they look like kindergarteners in comparison,” here throwing a contemptuous glance in a fuming Tim Davidson’s direction. 

“And you know what? Even when I get your precious hide thrown off campus, you still manage to humiliate me!” and he stalked towards the perplexed young man to prod him hard in the chest with his index finger, luckily without jabbing the wire. However, the man was too overwrought to notice the additional anxiety on his victim’s face as he continued with his rant. 

“Because you got your last article published in ‘Anthropology Today’ and ‘National Geographic’ I thought it would be so gratifying if I could eclipse your achievement by sending in my paper on our last expedition – the one you thought _you_ would be covering! 

“Do you know what happened? _Do_ you?” he growled threateningly as he closed in on Blair, gripping him by the upper arms so he could drag him up until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the trembling young man. 

“They sent it back!” he virtually screamed, flecks of spittle spraying Blair as he shook the young man in his fury. 

“They sent it BACK!” he reiterated. 

“Said it wasn’t UP TO STANDARD!!” Damn them! Damn YOU!!” and he released his grip with one hand to viciously backhand Blair across the face. 

However, before he could follow up on the blow, the door burst open to reveal a furious Ellison in full Blessed Protector mode, incandescent with fury and bent on destroying the wretch who had the temerity to hurt his Guide. 

Hurling Davidson against the wall with one terrifying thrust, Jim advanced on the horrified Buckner with murderous intent, seizing the older man in a grip of steel, plainly intending to snap his scrawny neck in retaliation for daring to lay a hand on his Guide, and his alone. 

However, he was halted in his tracks by Blair’s frightened but insistent words, which called him back from the edge as nothing else would have done, enough to slacken his killing hold and shove his intended victim away as he turned to face his beloved. 

“Jim! Jim! I’m OK! Please, Jim! Please don’t kill him! I need you!” 

And Jim listened, and heard. 

Seconds later their backup had arrived and quickly took both men into custody, leaving Jim and Blair alone for a few precious moments of privacy before they too had to go downtown to give their statements and wrap up the case. 

Breathing deeply, rational once again but still very much tuned in to his Guide, Jim raised a gentle hand to carefully stroke Blair’s already bruising cheek. 

“You really OK, baby?” he breathed. “Did he hurt you very much? I should have killed the bastard!” 

Covering the big hand with one of his own, Blair brought it to his lips and kissed the warm palm before replying, “No, Jim. It was nothing really! I’ve had way worse, believe me, and anyway, nothing is worth you being arrested and sent to prison! Nothing!” 

And Jim was sadly aware that he spoke the truth. 

“I love you, my Guide, and I swear to spend the rest of my life protecting you from harm, baby!” 

And he was almost overcome with awe and gratitude when the smaller man replied, shyly but with steely determination, “And I love you Jim Ellison. And I swear to do my best to be a good Guide to you for the rest of my life.” 

And he didn’t fight at all when Jim’s strong arms enfolded him in an embrace as loving and protective as he had always dreamed it would be.  


\------------------------------  


**Epilogue:**  


The next few weeks proved to be almost manic for Blair in particular as his personal circumstances seemed to change almost daily. Although still technically on probation until the charges against him were dropped, he tried to spend as much time as possible at the PD, helping Jim to integrate his new abilities into his working life as much as practicable, and becoming a familiar face to those in MCU. 

Jim soon found, to his relief and Simon’s satisfaction; that he was already able to go out on run-of-the-mill cases which didn’t require him to use his senses as he could now control them well enough not to suffer from spikes or zones under normal circumstances. However, they were both aware that he would be foolish to try and use them deliberately without Blair to ground him, so that would have to wait until Blair was cleared to get his ride-along pass. 

Tim Davidson quickly rolled over on Buckner, claiming that the other man had come up with the plot to implicate Blair in the smuggling attempt, and that he had been forced to take part under threat of losing his position as Teaching Assistant. As a result, he escaped with a spell of community service, although by far the worst punishment for him was to be sent down from Rainier in disgrace. 

As for Dr Buckner, he was charged with both the smuggling attempt and with maliciously setting Blair up to take the blame, for which he was looking at a prison sentence in his turn. However, to Jim’s utter amazement, Blair stood up for his old teacher, and asked for leniency, because despite everything, he really didn’t want the other man to face a jail term. 

When Jim questioned him, he replied quietly that he wouldn’t want anyone to have to go through what he did, even Buckner. Jim personally believed that Blair was way too forgiving, but couldn’t fault him on his compassion, so they agreed to disagree on the issue. 

With Blair’s intervention, therefore, Buckner received a very hefty fine, a suspended jail sentence, and was fired from his post at Rainier, so Blair believed that that was sufficient punishment since the man would never again gain employment at any reputable educational establishment, having lost all academic and moral credibility. 

As for Blair himself, with the weight of the team at Gillespie and Associates behind him, as well as the evidence from the taped conversation, his conviction was swiftly overturned and he was released immediately from probation, which pleased Parole Officer Gerald Parker no end. 

No longer needing to stay at the hostel, Jim asked him if he was happy to come and live with him at the loft. Knowing that Blair was still wary of sexual activity, he was prepared to wait for as long as necessary to consummate their relationship, but he still very much wanted to have his Guide under his roof and in his territory where he could protect and cherish him, and enjoy the sensory benefits of keeping the young man close. 

When Blair agreed with shy but sincere gratitude, they moved his few belongings from the hostel, and, having approached Rainier, found to Blair’s delight that his boxed up papers and laptop remained untouched in the storage room, thanks to his student helper, so he was able to liberate them also. 

He was soon settled in the small spare bedroom under the stairs, but Jim sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t be too long until he could coax the young man to move upstairs with him. 

Now freed from the stigma of his conviction, with Jim’s help and support Blair threw himself into getting his life back on track. 

The most pressing act as far as Blair was concerned was to apply for, and receive his ride-along pass, which was granted on the grounds that he needed the information gained by riding with Jim to continue his studies at Rainier. However, Jim was dumbfounded when Blair diffidently explained that he had shelved any thought of pursuing a doctorate in Sentinel Studies, for several very good reasons. 

“But baby, I thought that the Sentinel project was your dream! The reason you were so devastated when you were sent down from Rainier! What are you thinking of doing instead?” 

And Blair, taking Jim’s hand and gazing earnestly into his partner’s puzzled eyes, said, “I don’t need to study Sentinels at the U any more, Jim. I have one of my own to work with and to love,” and he blushed endearingly before continuing. “And besides, I couldn’t ensure your anonymity as my test subject, which could be dangerous for you,” and his voice dropped to a whisper as he added shyly, “and I can’t write about someone I hope to be intimate with soon. Talk about ‘going native!” 

Grinning from ear to ear, Jim enveloped him in a gentle but loving hug, and cuddled his precious bundle for long minutes until they broke apart for Blair to continue with his explanation. 

Although he was uncomfortably aware of how most cops despised defence lawyers in general, believing that they were frequently responsible for getting criminals back on the streets, he told Jim that he had decided to do another degree in Law, because he wanted to be able to help people like himself who needed lawyers like the team at Gillespie’s. The sort of lawyer who was prepared to stand up for innocents and for victims of circumstance. 

Certainly Jim had his own reasons for disliking defence lawyers, but he understood where Blair was coming from, and he was also impressed with the preliminary research Blair had done. With the blessing of Walter Gillespie himself, Megan and Joel, Blair had ‘upgraded’ from janitor to student helper, working part time at the office as the practical component for his degree, with a very good chance of being offered a junior partnership once qualified. 

All in all, as far as work and study was concerned, he was certainly now back on track, much to Jim’s satisfaction. Now they just had to progress their personal relationship, but Jim was prepared to wait for as long as it took, touched by the amount of trust his young Guide already placed in his Sentinel.  


\-----------------------  


A few days following that discussion, they were relaxing in the loft, with Blair snuggled cosily against Jim’s side as they sat on the sofa. As Jim lazily channel-surfed while Blair had his nose buried in a heavy legal tome as per usual now, they were distracted at the ringing of the telephone. Seeing from the caller ID that it was Simon Banks on the line, Jim rose to his feet and picked up before the answering service kicked in. After a short conversation, he returned grim-faced to where his Guide peered inquisitively up at him, eyes troubled at Jim’s discomfort. 

Sitting back down beside Blair, Jim half turned in his seat so he could hold the young man’s gaze as he said gently, “That was Simon, baby. He just got some news he thought we’d want to know. 

“Apparently Bo Mason was killed in Starkville this morning. Another con stabbed him in a brawl – probably some gang-related thing,” and he was taken aback when Blair’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Hey, baby, what are you crying for? I thought you’d be relieved, although I know you well enough by now not to expect you to gloat. I just don’t understand why that bastard deserves your tears!” 

Sniffing slightly, Blair tried to explain. 

“You see Jim, although he abused me, and treated me like dirt; Bo still protected me in his own way. If it hadn’t been for him I could have had it so much worse – gang raped on a regular basis, or even killed! So I can’t help but feel sorry for him...” and he tailed off, to move gratefully into Jim’s open arms for a comforting hug. 

Long moments later, he pulled back, and held Jim’s compassionate gaze for a second before saying quietly, “Um, I know this is probably going to sound really strange, Big Guy, but I hope you can understand what I’m about to try and explain. 

“I mean, I know it’s weird, but I feel different all of a sudden – as if I’m finally free to love you, if you still want me, that is?” 

He got no further before Jim enfolded him again in his arms, murmuring, “Oh baby! Oh yes, little one, I want you! Can I take you to bed, love? I promise we’ll take it as slowly as you need....” 

At Blair’s shy nod of acceptance, he swept the young man into his arms and carried him up to the main bedroom where he laid his precious bundle carefully in the centre of the big bed. 

Slowly and gently undressing Blair, mindful of his nervousness, and the rush of shame as Jim finally got to see the rough tattoo on his buttock, Jim whispered, “It’s OK, baby! No need to be ashamed of this,” and he lowered his face to plant a gentle kiss on the spot. 

“This wasn’t your fault, and it doesn’t make you any less beautiful to me, lover. 

“When you’re ready, if you need it, we can get it removed, but don’t feel you have to on my account.” And Blair burst into tears of relief and love at the sincere words, and reached up to pull the Sentinel into his arms. 

After a long period of unhurried exploration of each other’s bodies, kissing, tasting and taking pleasure in their mutual learning experience, Jim finally prepared his Guide with exquisite care until the smaller man was shaking with need. 

“Now, Jim! Please take me now,” he whispered, but then a pained expression momentarily replaced the flushed passion on his lovely face as he added, “But I need to see you! He....he always pinned me face down....” 

Swiftly pressing a kiss on the wide brow, Jim replied lovingly, “Anything you need, baby!” and with Blair’s answering smile, he slowly entered the beautiful body and began to move. 

As their passion built, and they climaxed almost simultaneously, they shared the most wonderful vision. 

In a jungle clearing, a beautiful silver wolf ran joyously to meet a sleek black jaguar, and as they leapt to merge with each other there was an amazing burst of light and heat as the bond between them was forged bright and strong and they were bound together as one forever after. 

In the lazy aftermath, when they lay entwined in each other’s arms, they shared a second brief vision of a Sentinel and Shaman in full Chopec ceremonial dress, who regarded them both solemnly for long moments before nodding and smiling at each other in deep satisfaction as they faded back into a blue rainforest....  


**The End**


End file.
